UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


GEN.  J.   MADISON   DRAKE 


Historical  Sketches 


OF  THE 


Revolutionary  and  Civil 

Wars 


With  an  account  of  author's  desperate  leap  from  a  swiftly 

moving  train  of  cars,  and  a  fatiguing  tramp  of  1,000 

miles  through  three  Confederate  states,  in 

making  his  escape  from  a  Prison-pen 


BY 
J.  MADISON  DRAKE 

Captain  Ninth  N.  J.  Volunteers  and  Bt.  Brig.- 
General    by   special   act   of  N.  J.    Legislature 


Historian  Ninth  N.  J.  Volunteers,  Past  Historian  Medal  of  Honor 

Legion,  U.  S.  A.,  and  author  of  "  Fast  and  Loose  in  Dixie," 

and  "  Across  the  Continent  in  Red  Breeches" 


NEW  YORK 

Printed  for  the  Author 
Bv  THE  WEBSTER  PRESS 

1908 


Copyright,  1908 
By  J.  MADISON   DRAKE 


*•     J 

$71  h 


INTRODUCTORY. 

^ 

A    T  the  earnest  and  repeated  solicitations  ot  many  citizens 

jf"\     I  present  this  volume  to  the  public,  the  chief  object  of 

which  is  to  preserve  in  convenient  form  many  personal 

-  incidents  which  enlivened  the  war  for  American  Liberty — 1775- 

1783 — as  well  as  the  war  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union — 

1861-1865. 
{/) 

£j  The  sketches  of  the  Revolutionary  War  are  founded  upon 

legends  I  fondly  heard  when  a  youth  from  revolutionary  sires 
and  their  descendants,  as  well  as  from  official  reports  and  state- 
ments appearing  in  the  newspapers  of  that  period,  while  those 
relating  to  the  Civil  War  furnished  by  the  actors,  some  of  whom 
are  still  living,  are  given  that  the  heroic  actions  of  my  comrades 
may  not  be  effaced  by  time,  nor  their  wondrous  deeds  deprived 

™       of  renown. 

O 

The  modest  work  is  submitted  with  the  fond  hope  that  it 
may  revive  proud  recollections  in  the  hearts  of  all  true  Ameri- 
.       cans,   and   inspire    them   with   patriotism   and   greater   love   of 
country,  for  which  its  braves  sacrificed  so  much. 

What  the  author  has  done  (in  the  pages  which  follow)  in 
:J       chronicling  and  perpetuating  the  brilliant  history  of  New  Jer- 
seymen  he  much  fears  will  be  but  an  epitome  of  what  might  be 
Li       recorded,  but  such  as  it  is  he  dedicates  it  to  the 

PATRIOTIC  PEOPLE  OF  AMERICA. 

J.  MADISON  DRAKE. 
Elizabeth,  N.  J.,  1908. 


Historical  Sketches  of  the  Revolutionary 
and  Civil  Wars. 


PART  I.— THE  REVOLUTIONARY  WAR. 


NEW  JERSEY'S  CONTINENTALS. 

THE  first  call  made  on  New  Jersey  for  troops  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary War  was  by  a  resolution  adopted  by  Congress 
October  9,  1775,  and  under  its  provisions  two  regiments 
of  eight  companies  each  were  promptly  raised.  The  men,  enlisted 
for  one  year,  were  to  receive  five  dollars  per  month,  and,  in  lieu 
of  a  bounty,  a  felt  hat,  pair  of  stockings,  and  a  pair  of  shoes. 
They  were  compelled  to  provide  their  own  arms  and  accoutre- 
ments. A  few  days  later  Congress  showed  its  further  generosity 
to  the  men  who  were  to  expose  their  lives  and  do  the  real  work 
by  granting  each  man  a  hunting  shirt,  not  exceeding  in  value 
$1.33,  and  a  blanket,  providing  these  articles  could  be  procured, 
This  was  to  be  regarded  as  a  gift,  not  as  a  part  of  the  enlistment 
contract. 

On  the  26th  of  October,  Samuel  Tucker,  president  of  the 
Provincial  Congress  of  New  Jersey,  issued  a  call  for  able-bodied 
men  to  fill  the  quota,  and  appointed  Elias  Dayton,  of  Elizabeth- 
town,  chairman  of  a  commission,  to  muster  the  men. 

The  first  regiment  raised  in  New  Jersey  had  as  its  first 
colonel  William  Alexander  (Lord  Stirling),  of  Somerset  County. 
William  De  Hart  (major),  Matthias  Ogden  (lieutenant-colonel), 
Matthias  Halsted  (quartermaster),  and  Aaron  Ogden  (paymas- 
ter). 

The  Second  Regiment,  with  William  Maxwell  as  colonel, 
was  raised  in  the  middle  of  the  state. 

On  the  tenth  of  January,  1776,  Congress  called  for  another 
regiment  from  New  Jersey,  on  the  same  terms  offered  the  other 
two.  None,  however,  were  to  be  enlisted  but  healthy,  sound  and 
able-bodied  freemen  over  sixteen  years  of  age.  The  call  further 


O  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

specified  that  no  apprentice  should  be  enlisted  without  the  consent 
of  his  master  or  mistress,  and  every  person  under  the  age  of 
twenty-one  years,  enlisting  as  aforesaid,  may  within  twenty-four 
hours  after  their  parent  or  guardian  shall  have  notice  of  their  en- 
listment obtain  his  discharge  by  refunding  the  money  received 
from  the  recruiting  officer,  and  returning  such  necessaries  as  may 
have  been  supplied  him  by  the  officer  or  the  value  thereof  in  money. 

Elias  Dayton  was  appointed  colonel  of  the  Third  Regiment. 
Francis  Barber,  major;  Jonathan  Dayton,  paymaster,  and  Rev. 
James  Caldwell,  chaplain. 

As  soon  as  organized,  four  companies  were  sent  over  to 
Staten  Island;  the  other  four  to  Amboy.  On  the  28th  of  April 
the  Third  Regiment  reassembled  here,  and  was  reviewed  on  the 
public  ground  in  front  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  grave- 
yard (a  valuable  property  since  presented  to  the  church  corpora- 
tion by  a  corrupt  city  council).  On  the  third  of  May  the  First 
and  Third  Regiments  embarked  on  sloops,  and  sailed  for  Albany, 
thus  commencing  a  term  of  active  service,  in  which  they  won,  dur- 
ing eight  years  of  war,  imperishable  renown.  While  in  the  north, 
companies  of  the  two  regiments  were  stationed  at  Johnstown. 
German  Flats,  Fort  Dayton  (thus  named  in  honor  of  Colonel 
Dayton),  Fort  Schuyler,  Ticonderoga  and  Mount  Independence, 
to  prevent  incursions  of  the  Indians.  The  two  commands  did 
hard  duty  in  that  section  until  March,  1777,  when  they  returned 
to  Morristown  in  this  state,  and  were  mustered  out  of  service, 
their  term  of  enlistment  having  expired. 

Congress,  in  September.  1776,  called  for  four  regiments, 
offering  a  bounty  of  twenty  dollars  to  every  man  who  would 
enlist  to  serve  during  the  war,  unless  sooner  discharged.  Under 
this  call  Congress  made  grants  of  land  to  all  officers  and  men  who 
should  serve  during  the  entire  war.  A  colonel  was  to  have  500 
acres;  a  lieutenant-colonel,  450;  a  major,  400:  a  captain,  300;  a 
lieutenant,  200;  an  ensign,  150,  and  each  enlisted  man  100  acres 
of  land. 

The  four  regiments  thus  called  for  were  promptly  forthcom- 
ing. They  constituted  what  was  for  seven  years  known  far  and 
wide  as  the  "Jersey  Brigade."  It  participated  in  every  important 
battle  of  the  war,  besides  taking  part  in  Sullivan's  expedition  to 
Wyoming  Valley,  Pa.,  to  punish  the  Indians  for  their  outrages  in 
that  section. 


REVOLUTIONARY   AND   CIVIL    WARS. 


HOW  MINUTE-MEN  WERE  ORGANIZED. 


Provincial  Congress  of  New  Jersey,  on  the  fifth  of 
August,  1775,  ordered  the  various  counties  to  raise  and 
equip  fifty-four  companies  of  minute-men,  of  sixty-four 
men  each,  making  a  total  of  3,456,  from  which  ten  battalions  were 
formed.  Elizabethtown,  then  really  Essex  County,  furnished  one 
regiment,  known  as  the  First,  to  which  Lord  Stirling,  of  Bask- 
ingridge,  was  assigned  as  colonel.  Bergen,  Middlesex,  Mon- 
mouth,  Somerset,  Morris,  Sussex,  Hunterdon  and  Burlington 
counties  each  furnished  a  battalion,  Gloucester  and  Salem  coun- 
ties another.  Cumberland  and  Cape  May  counties  organized 
independent  companies  of  infantry  and  horsemen. 

New  Jersey,  being  a  frontier  state,  with  the  British  occupy- 
ing Staten  Island  and  New  York  City,  was  subjected  to  all  the 
dangers  and  miseries  of  border  warfare,  and  her  losses  in  pro- 
portion to  her  wealth  and  population  were  probably  greater  than 
those  of  any  other  State,  with,  perhaps,  the  exception  of  South 
Carolina. 

When  a  powerful  British  fleet  and  army  appeared  off  Staten 
Island,  July  1,  1776,  the  disaffected  in  New  York  and  New  Jersey 
greatly  rejoiced  and  united  as  far  as  they  could  in  annoying  the 
patriots  and  their  provincial  governments.  Cortlandt  Skinner 
who  had  been  attorney-general  of  New  Jersey,  with  every  mem- 
ber of  his  family,  pronounced  their  allegiance  to  the  British  king 
and  removed  to  Staten  Island,  whither  he  called  all  Jerseymen' 
who  acknowledged  their  loyalty  to  the  enemy.  Skinner  was 
quickly  appointed  a  brigadier-general,  and  ordered  to  raise  2,500 
Jerseymen,  which  he  thought  he  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
doing,  but  he  succeeded  in  getting  only  500,  many  of  whom  were 
low  characters,  but  fit  for  the  cowardly  work  he  set  them  at. 

In  the  summer  of  1776  the  tories  of  Monmouth,  Hunterdon. 
Bergen  and  Sussex  counties  became  so  active  in  their  opposition 
to  the  measures  of  Congress  that  minute-men  were  sent  to  arrest 
the  leaders.  Things  took  such  a  turn  in  Hunterdon  that  the 
tories  committed  acts  of  violence,  going  so  far  as  to  plunder  the 
house  of  Captain  Jones,  who,  in  resisting,  was  beaten  and 
wounded. 

Congress  then  ordered  the  militia  to  march  to  the  disaffected 
localities  and  disarm  all  who  were  ascertained  to  be  sympathizers 
or  supporters  of  the  British  king. 

An  act  of  cruelty  that  enraged   New  Jerseymen  was  the 


8  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF   THE 

arrest  and  confinement  of  Richard  Stockton,  a  member  of  Con- 
gress, whose  home  was  at  Princeton.  When  the  British  army, 
in  pursuit  of  Washington,  reached  that  town,  they  made  search 
for  Mr.  Stockton,  who  had  a  few  days  before  taken  his  family 
down  into  Monmouth  County  to  save  them  from  danger.  A 
British  force,  dispatched  in  search  of  him,  dragged  him  out  of 
bed  at  night,  and  in  his  night  dress  carried  him  to  Amboy,  where 
he  was  put  in  a  dungeon.  The  ill-treatment  he  received  during 
his  long  imprisonment  at  Amboy  and  New  York  laid  the  founda- 
tion for  a  disease  that  terminated  his  existence  in  1781. 

On  the  17th  of  July,  1776,  the  patriots  of  New  Jersey,  that 
the  world  might  know  where  they  stood  in  the  times  that  tried 
men's  souls,  caused  the  provincial  congress  to  pass  the  following: 

"Whereas,  The  honorable,  the  Continental  Congress,  have 
declared  the  United  Colonies  free  and  independent  states,  we,  the 
deputies  of  New  Jersey,  in  provincial  congress  assembled,  do 
resolve  and  declare,  that  we  will  support  the  freedom  and  inde- 
pendence of  the  said  states,  with  our  lives  and  fortunes,  and  with 
the  whole  force  of  New  Jersey." 

This  proclamation  sounded  the  death  knell  of  toryism  in 
New  Jersey  during  the  war  for  American  freedom. 


NEW  JERSEYMEN  HAD  MARTIAL  SPIRIT. 

IN  no  section  of  this  beautiful  land  have  people  more  firmly 
adhered  to  patriotic  principles  than  in  New  Jersey.  The 

pure  and  upright  men  who  came  here  from  New  England 
in  1664  were  intense  lovers  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and 
willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  to  enjoy  it.  Fathers  who  had  fled 
from  the  oppression  of  the  British  government,  after  coming  to 
this  virgin  soil,  told  the  story  of  the  indignities  and  wrongs  they 
had  suffered,  and  the  truths  sinking  deep  into  the  hearts  of  their 
children,  caused  them  to  hate  despotism.  The  men  who  settled 
Elizabethtown,  and  consequently  New  Jersey,  had  no  love  for  the 
British  throne  nor  for  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  corrupt  and 
gilded  courts.  They  were  jealous  of  natural  and  covenanted 
rights,  and  ever  firmly  resisted  attempts  to  part  with  them. 

The  people  of  Elizabethtown  were  first  to  follow  Massa- 
chusetts in  opposing  the  provisions  of  the  stamp  act,  passed  by 
the  British  government  in  March,  1765,  and  in  February,  1766. 
erected  a  gallows  on  Broad  street,  vowing  they  would  hang  with- 


REVOLUTIONARY   AND   CIVIL    WARS.  9 

out  judge  or  jury  any  person  who  purchased  or  used  stamped 
paper.  This  proclamation  had  the  desired  effect.  It  was  because 
of  this  action  on  the  part  of  our  people  that  the  26th  regiment 
of  British  regulars  was  sent  here.  Meantime  our  people  sol- 
emnly vowed  they  would  not  purchase  or  use  any  English-made 
goods.  In  May,  1770,  the  29th  British  regiment,  which  had 
taken  part  in  the  Boston  massacre  the  previous  March,  relieved 
the  26th  regiment.  This  act  of  the  British  authorities  maddened 
our  people.  It  added  fuel  to  the  fire. 

Nowhere  in  this  country  previous  to  and  during  the  Ameri- 
can revolution  was  greater  patriotism  displayed  than  was 
exhibited  by  the  people  of  Elizabethtown,  and  no  community  made 
greater  sacrifices  for  the  cause  of  liberty  and  human  privileges. 

Elizabethtown,  previous  to  the  war  and  during  its  continu- 
ance, was  the  headquarters  of  the  patriots  of  the  state.  It  was 
here  that  expressions  of  sympathy  were  first  heard  for  the  Bos- 
tonians,  whose  port  had  been  closed  by  the  British  in  retaliation 
for  the  "Tea  party." 

It  was  here  that  this  sympathy  took  practical  shape  in  the 
forwarding  of  money  generously  supplied  by  our  people  for  such 
inhabitants  of  Boston  as  had  been  reduced  to  extremity  and 
want  by  this  action  of  the  British  government. 

It  was  here,  before  the  shot  fired  at  Lexington,  that  the 
people  refused  to  have  commercial  intercourse  with  those  whc 
upheld  the  tyranny  of  the  British  government,  notably  breaking 
off  all  intercourse  with  the  inhabitants  of  Staten  Island,  who  were 
inflexibly  opposed  to  the  cause  of  American  freedom. 

It  was  at  a  critical  moment  that  our  people  supplied  the  army 
with  powder  after  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  in  which  all  the 
Americans  had  was  expended.  In  less  than  one  month  after 
the  battle  Elizabethans  forwarded  nearly  seven  tons  of  powder 
to  the  army  encamped  around  Boston,  and  it  was  in  the  old  mill 
on  South  Broad  street,  that  the  first  powder  was  manufactured 
in  this  state. 

The  martial  spirit  of  the  people  of  Elizabethtown  was  fully 
shown  in  October,  1775,  when  sixteen  companies  of  infantry  and 
one  company  of  horsemen  were  formed  for  active  service.  When 
these  minute-men  first  appeared  on  Broad  street,  on  the  parade- 
ground  in  front  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  grounds,  people 
from  near  and  far  came  to  witness  the  pageant. 

It  was  here  that  the  first  recruiting  station  in  the  state  was 
organized,  and  in  November,  1775,  Lord  Stirling,  who  lived  at 
Baskingridge,  came  down  and  organized  the  First  Regiment. 


10  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF   THE 

Previous  to  this  the  Earl  had  been  colonel  of  a  militia  regiment 
in  Somerset  county. 

June  29,  1776,  General  Livingston  sent  three  companies  of 
Elizabethtown  boys  to  New  York  to  assist  in  the  defense  of  that 
city,  Washington  having  urgently  requested  this.  These  were 
the  first  troops  to  leave  the  state. 

Late  in  1775,  Staten  Islanders  who  had  remained  loyal  to 
the  British  crown,  finding  themselves  ostracized  by  all  patriots 
and  unable  to  dispose  of  their  products,  became  penitent,  dis- 
avowed fealty  to  the  king,  and  sued  for  recognition  by  patriots* 
but  when  the  British  army,  under  Lord  Howe,  landed  on  the 
island  July  2,  1776,  they  quickly  renounced  their  -professions  of 
allegiance  to  the  cause  of  American  liberty,  and  joyfully  gave 
the  glad  hand  to  the  invaders  of  their  soil,  and  did  not  withdraw 
it  until  compelled  so  to  do  at  the  end  of  the  conflict.  Staten 
Island,  for  seven  years,  was  a  nest  of  traitors,  and  patriots  here- 
abouts suffered  all  that  malignity  could  invent  from  their  maraud- 
ing expeditions.  When  Staten  Islanders  crossed  to  this  side  of 
the  sound  they  carried  knife  and  torch. 

The  day  following  the  disembarkation  of  the  British  on  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  island,  red-coated  soldiers  paraded  on  the 
western  slope  in  plain  view  of  the  people  of  Elizabethtown,  and 
this  so  enraged  two  young  men  that  they  crossed  the  sound  in 
a  canoe,  and  making  their  way  over  the  salt  meadows,  fired  a 
number  of  shots  at  the  insolent  foe.  The  British  soldiers,  sur- 
prised at  the  audacity  of  the  two  patriots  in  thus  boldiy  bearding 
them,  made  attempts  to  effect  their  capture,  but  failed. 

July  6  most  Elizabethans  hurriedly  fled  to  the  mountains,  a 
rumor  prevailing  that  the  British  on  the  island  intended  invading 
the  town.  The  alarm  proved  false,  and  the  fugitives  soon  after 
returned  to  their  homes. 

August  26th,  Captain  Daniel  Neill  opened  with  his  artillery 
on  a  British  camp  on  the  island,  the  enemy  replying,  but  doing 
no  damage. 

In  the  latter  part  of  August,  owing  to  the  absence  of  the 
New  Jersey  troops  from  this  state,  the. First  Regiment  of  Penn- 
sylvania (mostly  from  Philadelphia)  arrived  at  Elizabethtown 
to  guard  it  from  incursions  by  Staten  Island  tories.  The  Penn- 
sylvanians,  however,  did  more  harm  than  good,  and  people  were 
heartily  glad  when  most  of  them  deserted  to  return  home. 
Washington,  pained  by  their  conduct,  and  the  gloom  they  cast 
among  the  people,  made  a  touching  appeal  to  their  patriotism 
beseeching  them  to  remain  faithful  to  their  obligations,  as  the 


REVOLUTIONARY   AND   CIVIL    WARS.  11 

fate  of  the  country,  perhaps,  depended  on  the  exertion  the  army 
might  make  during  the  next  few  weeks.  The  address  failed  to 
have  the  effect  desired,  as  the  desertions  continued.  General 
Livingston,  in  command  here  at  the  time,  indignant  at  the  con- 
duct of  the  Pennsylvanians,  in  a  public  letter,  regretted  associa- 
tion with  them,  classifying  the  regiment  as  "a  discipline-hating; 
goodliving-loving,  'to  eternal  fam'd  damn'd,'  coxcombical  crew." 

August  31,  1776,  General  Livingston  was  elected  the  first 
governor  of  New  Jersey,  holding  the  position  fourteen  years 
until  his  death,  a  longer  term  than  was  enjoyed  by  any  other 
executive. 

September  24,  Elizabethtowners  were  considerably  exer- 
cised over  the  unexpected  arrival  here  of  420  American  soldiers, 
survivors  of  the  ill-fated  expedition  of  General  Benedict  Arnold 
to  Canada,  who  had  been  liberated  on  parole.  Many  of  the  men- 
were  sick.  All  were  wrecks.  They  had  suffered  from  frost-bite, 
starvation  and  cruel  imprisonment.  As  they  could  not  be  properly 
cared  for  here  they  were  conveyed  in  wagons  to  Millstone, 
Somerset  County. 

November  21,  citizens  of  Newark  and  Elizabethtown  fled  to 
the  mountains  for  refuge,  owing  to  a  threatened  advance  of  the 
British  army.  This  was  one  of  the  darkest  periods  of  the  war. 

November  28,  Washington,  with  the  wreck  of  the  army, 
barely  3,500  in  all,  retreated  from  Newark,  where  he  had  been 
nearly  a  week,  Lord  Cornwallis,  with  a  powerful  and  confident 
force,  closely  following.  Cornwallis  reached  Elizabethtown  four 
days  afterwards,  and  remained  several  days.  He  kept  his  men' 
busy  foraging  for  supplies,  and  rejoiced  at  the  discovery  of  sev- 
eral tons  of  leaden  bullets,  which  the  people  had  moulded  for  the- 
army. 

Private  property  in  and  about  Elizabethtown  suffered  greatly 
during  the  war,  Governor  Livingston's  home  on  Morris  avenue 
(now  the  residence  of  Senator  Kean)  being  an  especially  inter- 
esting object  to  marauders  of  both  sides.  The  building  was  pil- 
laged repeatedly,  and  the  marvel  is  that  it  was  left  standing,  sc 
implacable  was  the  hatred  of  the  enemy  for  the  most  popular 
governor  New  Jersey  ever  had. 

During  the  year  1778,  owing  to  the  occupation  of  the  towrr 
by  a  considerable  force  of  American  troops,  kept  here  for  it? 
protection,  the  people  were  enabled  to  dwell  in  comparative  safety 
at  home.  In  fact  this  was  the  only  year  during  the  war  in 
which  they  had  any  enjoyment  of  life. 

Governor  Livingston's  family  resided  here  but  little  during- 


12  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

the  entire  eight  years,  finding  a  refuge  at  Baskingridge  and 
Parcipany.  The  governor  himself,  upon  whose  head  the  British 
.government  had  set  a  price  of  several  thousand  pounds,  remained 
here  as  much  as  possible,  but  was  often  compelled  to  mount  his 
horse  and  hie  away  to  the  mountains  above  Springfield  to  escape 
capture,  if  not  death.  Shortly  after  the  futile  raid  of  Colonel 
Sterling  with  two  British  regiments,  February  24,  1777,  to  effect 
his  capture,  Governor  Livingston  informed  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
by  letter  that  he  was  "possessed  of  the  most  authentic  proofs" 
that  one  of  his  (Clinton's)  general  officers  (Cortlandt  Skinner) 
had  "offered  2,000  guineas  and  a  pension  for  life  to  an  inhabitant 
of  this  town"  to  assassinate  him  (the  governor)  in  case  he  could 
not  be  captured  alive. 

The  chivalrous  Briton  replied  so  curtly  and  impertinently 
that  the  governor  returned  a  withering  rejoinder,  which  he  was 
well  qualified  to  do,  for  he  was  master  of  the  English  language. 

To  further  show  how  desolate  the  soldiers  made  the  gover- 
nor's home,  I  quote  the  following  letter  written  by  one  of  his 
daughters : 

"Kate  has  been  at  Elizabethtown ;  found  our  house  in  a 
ruined  condition.  Gen.  Dickinson  had  stationed  a  captain  with 
his  artillery  company  in  it,  and  after  that  it  was  kept  for  a  bul- 
lock's guard.  Kate  waited  on  the  general,  and  he  ordered  the 
troops  removed  the  next  day,  but  then  the  mischief  was  done; 
everything  is  carried  off  that  mamma  had  collected  for  her  accom- 
modation, so  that  it  is  impossible  for  her  to  go  down  to  have  the 
grapes  and  other  things  secured;  the  very  hinges,  locks,  and 
panes  of  glass  are  taken  away." 


CAPTURE  OF  FIRST  ENGLISH  SHIP. 

IN  the  early  days  of  the  revolutionary  war  Elizabethtown  was 
governed  by  a  committee,  composed  of  its  best  and  ablest 

men.  Its  public  actions  were  reported  direct  to  congress, 
then,  as  now,  the  law-making  power  of  the  land. 

William  Alexander  (titular)  Earl  of  Stirling,  a  firm  patriot, 
residing  at  Baskingridge,  Somerset  County,  organized  the  First 
Regiment,  New  Jersey  Volunteers,  for  the  Continental  Army, 
shortly  after  the  battle  of  Lexington,  April  19,  1775,  and  in  the 
latter  part  of  that  year  a  battalion  was  sent  to  guard  this  town. 

Monday  night,  January  22,  1776,  Col.  Stirling,  with  some 
forty  men  of  his  regiment,  all  that  were  in  this  vicinity,  the  rest 


REVOLUTIONARY   AND   CIVIL   WARS.  1£ 

being  with  the  army  on  Long  Island,  left  here  in  wagons  for 
Amboy,  with  the  avowed  intention  of  procuring  a  vessel  at  that 
place,  in  which  he  had  decided  to  attack  and  capture  a  British 
transport,  said  to  be  lying  in  Prince's  Bay. 

Shortly  after  Lord  Stirling's  departure  for  Amboy,  the  town 
committee  learned  that  a  British  gunboat  had  suddenly  left 
New  York  to  go  to  Sandy  Hook  and  convoy  the  transport  to 
the  city. 

Fearing  that  Colonel  Stirling  might  be  overtaken  by  the 
British  war  vessel,  sent  out  to  defend  the  transport,  he  having 
no  cognizance  of  this  move  on  the  part  of  the  enemy,  the  town 
committee  despatched  a  courier  to  warn  him  of  the  threatened 
danger.  The  committee  were  to  send  him  reinforcements  in  boats 
by  way  of  the  narrows. 

The  committee  then  hastily  summoned  Colonel  Elias  Dayton, 
commanding  the  Third  Regiment  (Elizabethtowners),  and  a. 
number  of  his  officers,  and  ordered  them  to  assemble  as  quickly 
as  possible  such  of  their  men  as  would  volunteer  for  dangerous 
duty.  With  that  characteristic  which  has  ever  distinguished 
patriotic  citizens  of  Elizabeth,  more  volunteers  came  forward 
and  expressed  a  desire  to  perform  the  duty  required  of  them  than 
could  be  accepted. 

When  the  men  had  assembled  Colonel  Dayton  made  an 
address,  picturing  the  dangers  that  might  possibly  surround 
Colonel  Stirling,  who  was  absent  on  a  perilous  mission,  and 
called  upon  those  who  wished  to  go  to  his  assistance,  to  at  once 
provide  themselves  with  arms,  ammunition,  blankets  and  rations, 
and  report  to  him  at  midnight  at  the  wharf  at  the  foot  of  Eliza- 
beth avenue. 

Meantime  the  town  committee,  fully  realizing  the  importance 
of  the  brief  time  at  its  disposal,  hastened  to  the  water  front  and 
selected  three  of  the  largest  and  best  shallops,  which  their 
owners  cheerfully  prepared  for  the  expedition. 

Promptly  at  midnight,  the  tiny  craft,  laden  with  more  than 
one  hundred  Elizabethtown  boys,  under  a  favoring  but  icy 
wind  from  the  northwest,  sailed  in  a  southerly  direction  down 
the  sound.  It  had  been  Colonel  Dayton's  intention  to  go  by 
way  of  the  narrows,  in  order  to  intercept  the  British  war  vessel 
sent  out  in  the  afternoon,  but  owing  to  a  strong  adverse  tide 
and  floating  ice,  reported  in  New  York  Bay,  the  vessels  pro- 
ceeded as  above  stated. 

The  trip  down  the  sound  was  far  from  being  a  voyage  of 
pleasure,  owing  to  the  severity  of  the  weather  and  the  chilling 


.14  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

wind,  but  the  patriots,  thinking  only  of  the  object  in  view,  mur- 
mured not  at  their  exposure  to  the  wintry  blasts.  Wrapped  in 
-blankets,  and  huddled  together  in  the  open  boats,  these  brave 
spirits  made  themselves  as  comfortable  as  circumstances  would 
.allow.  It  was  not  the  first  or  last  time  they  suffered  for  the 
noble  cause  they  so  cheerfully  espoused. 

Colonel  Dayton's  little  fleet  speedily  reached  Amboy,  and 
he  at  once  communicated  with  Lord  Stirling,  who  had  just 
iound  a  craft  for  the  purpose  he  had  in  view.  The  armada, 
under  the  joint  command  of  Lord  Stirling  and  Colonel  Dayton, 
were  well  out  in  the  bay  before  "Old  Sol"  gilded  the  eastern 
horizon,  and  although  a  keen  lookout  was  kept  for  the  British 
transport  reported  to  be  in  that  vicinity,  its  whereabouts  could 
not  be  discovered. 

Shortly  after  the  rising  sun  had  dispelled  the  heavy  hanging 
mist,  the  soldier-sailors  were  made  happy  on  descrying,  far 
out  on  the  blue  waters,  the  towering  masts  of  a  large  vessel,  with 
all  sail  set,  and  in  rapid  motion,  headed  for  New  York. 

Intense  excitement  prevailed  on  the  four  vessels  composing 
the  Elizabethtown  navy,  and  every  man  carefully  examined  the 
priming  of  his  weapon  and  nerved  himself  for  the  expected  con- 
test. The  vessels  separated  to  produce  the  impression  that  they 
were  fishing  smacks,  and  this  innocent  manouver  completely  de- 
ceived the  commander  of  the  incoming  ship.  He  paid  no  heed 
to  the  shallops,  and  kept  on  his  course,  but  he  was  the  most  sur- 
prised man  in  the  world  when  he  discovered  his  vessel  sur- 
rounded by  the  American  boats,  filled  with  armed  men.  Before 
he  could  offer  resistance,  had  he  been  so  disposed,  the  Elizabeth- 
town  craft  were  run  alongside  and  fastened  with  grapnel  hooks, 
and  while  men  detailed  for  the  purpose  quickly  climbed  on 
board,  others  kept  their  muskets  trained  upon  the  surprised 
British  crew,  which  surrendered,  not  a  shot  having  been  fired 
by  either  party. 

The  captors  gave  vent  to  their  joy  by  repeated  cheers,  and 
treated  the  crew  so  well  that  it  set  to  work  and  prepared  a  steam- 
ing breakfast  for  the  conquerors.  The  ship,  which  proved  to 
be  the  Blue  Mountain  Valley,  was  taken  into  Amboy,  where 
it  became  an  object  of  great  interest.  Owing  to  strong  head 
winds  it  was  found  impossible  to  get  the  ship  to  this  town,  so 
it  remained  at  Amboy  till  Friday,  when  it  reached  here  safely 
and  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  town  committee  and  our 
people. 

The  Blue  Mountain  Valley  was  bark-rigged  and  over  100  feet 


REVOLUTIONARY   AND   CIVIL    WARS.  15 

in  length.  Its  cargo  consisted  of  107  chaldrons  of  coal,  30 
bundles  of  hoops,  100  butts  of  porter,  225  bags  of  beans,  150 
sacks  of  potatoes,  mostly  decayed,  10  casks  of  sauerkraut,  7  live 
hogs  out  of  80  consigned. 

Lord  Stirling  having  reported  the  capture  of  the  ship  to 
congress,  that  body  testified  its  appreciation  by  adopting  the 
following : 

"Resolved,  That  the  alertness,  activity  and  good  conduct 
and  spirit  of  Lord  Stirling,  and  the  forwardness  and  spirit 
of  the  gentlemen  and  others  from  Elizabethtown,  who 
voluntarily  aided  him  in  taking  the  ship  Blue  Mountain  Valley 
were  laudable  and  exemplary;  and  that  his  lordship  be  directed 
to  secure  the  capture  until  the  further  orders  of  congress ;  and 
that  in  the  meantime  he  cause  such  part  of  the  lading  as  would 
otherwise  perish,  to  be  disposed  of  by  sale." 


THE  FIRST  CANNON  SHOT. 

IT  has  never  been  generally  known  that  the  first  cannon  shot 
at  the  enemy,  after  the  adoption  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence by  Congress  at  Philadelphia,  on  the  evening  of 
July  4,  1776,  was  fired  in  Elizabethtown,  so  I  will  narrate  the 
exciting  episode.      Up  to  February,  1776,  this  State,  or  province 
as  it  then  was,  had  no  artillery  organization,  and  the  importance 
of  that  arm  of  the  service  being  acutely  felt,  the  provincial  con- 
gress, in  session  at   Burlington,   on   the   13th   of  that  month, 
adopted  the  following  resolution: 

"Resolved,  That  two  complete  artillery  companies  be  raised 
in  this  colony." 

The  ordinance  provided  that  the  term  of  enlistment  should 
be  for  one  year,  and  that  one  company  should  be  stationed  in 
the  eastern  part  of  the  province,  the  other  in  the  western.  Each 
company  was  to  consist  of  a  captain,  one  captain-lieutenant,  two 
second  lieutenants,  four  sergeants,  four  corporals,  and  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  matrosses.  (The  last  term  was  at  that  time  used 
to  denote  gunners'  mates,  or  soldiers  in  a  train  of  artillery  who 
assisted  in  loading,  firing  and  sponging  the  guns.) 

The  day  following  the  passage  of  the  ordinance  the  first  or 
eastern  company  was  organized  in  Newark  by  the  election  of 
the  following  officers: 

Captain — Frederick  Frelinghuysen. 
Captain-Lieutenant — Daniel  Neill. 


16  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

Second  Lieutenants — Thomas  Clark,  James  Heard. 

Captain  Frelinghuysen  served  but  one  month  and  resigned 
— Lieutenant  Neill  succeeding  him. 

Shepard  Kollock,  born  in  Delaware  in  1750,  after  learning 
the  "art  preservative  of  all  arts,"  in  Philadelphia,  located  in 
Elizabethtown  after  the  war  had  commenced,  and  joined  Cap- 
tain Neill's  battery.  He  was  with  it  when  it  attacked  and 
destroyed  a  British  gunboat,  and  by  his  distinguished  gallantry 
on  that  occasion  was  promoted  to  the  first  lieutenancy.  At  the 
close  of  the  campaign  in  1778,  General  Knox,  commanding  the 
American  artillery,  advised  Lieutenant  Kollock  to  establish  a 
newspaper  in  Elizabethtown,  as  he  would  thereby  be  able  to 
render  great  service  to  the  patriot  cause.  Lieutenant  Kollock 
liked  a  soldier's  life,  and  did  not  want  to  leave  the  army,  but 
General  Knox  finally  prevailed  upon  him  to  engage  in  the 
newspaper  enterprise,  so  he  resigned,  and  securing  a  rude  outfit 
located  in  Chatham,  a  much  safer  place  than  Elizabethtown 
was  at  that  period,  and  for  some  years  afterwards.  Lieutenant 
Kollock  continued  the  publication  of  the  New  Jersey  Journal 
and  Political  Intelligencer  at  Chatham  until  peace  was  declared, 
when  he  removed  his  plant  to  Elizabethtown,  where  it  has  since 
remained. 

Captain  Neill,  by  untiring  energy  and  devotion  to  duty, 
quickly  got  his  command  in  good  trim  for  the  active  service 
itrfwas  soon  to  engage  in.  In  the  latter  part  of  June  Captain 
Neill,  who  had  been  stationed  in  Newark,  being  ordered  to 
Elizabethtown,  took  possession  of  the  earthworks  at  what  is 
now  the  foot  of  Elizabeth  avenue,  where  he  made  a  comfortable 
camp.  To  relieve  his  men  from  ennui  when  not  engaged  in 
drilling,  Captain  Neill  caused  them  to  throw  up  more  dirt,  thus 
adding  to  the  strength  of  the  redoubt.  He  planted  his  four 
guns  so  they  would  command  the  sound,  narrow  at  that  point, 
as  well  as  the  entrance  to  the  Elizabeth  river,  then  known  as 
"Mill  Creek." 

William  Livingston,  a  resident  of  the  town,  who  resigned 
his  seat  in  the  Provincial  Congress  at  Burlington,  to  be  made 
commander-in-chief  of  the  New  Jersey  militia,  overjoyed  at  the 
presence  of  Captain  Neill's  battery,  on  the  morning  of  July 
4,  1776,  wrote  General  Washington: 

"*  *  *  We  now  have  two  field  pieces,  18-pounders,  with 
a  part  of  Captain  Neill's  company  of  artillery  in  this  province." 

Shortly  after  the  mounted  courier  had  set  out  with  the  dis- 
patch for  Washington's  headquarters  in  New  York,  American 


REVOLUTIONARY   AND   CIVIL   WARS.  17 

piquets  posted  on  the  ground  now  occupied  by  the  buildings 
of  the  Singer  company,  were  surprised  to  see  a  large  British 
gunboat  lying  off  the  southern  end  of  Shooter's  Island.  They 
at  once  sent  word  to  General  Livingston,  and  early  in  the  evening 
he  mounted  his  horse,  ever  saddled,  and  rode  to  the  lower  part  of 
the  town,  where  he  had  a  conference  with  Captain  Neill,  who 
had  already  taken  steps  to  repel  an  attack,  in  case  the  vessel 
meditated  mischief. 

The  sudden  appearance  of  the  gunboat  was  a  great  surprise 
to  our  soldiers,  as  no  British  vessel  had  been  in  our  waters  since 
Washington  occupied  New  York  City  and  Long  Island.  The 
gunboat  was  a  part  of  Admiral  Lord  Howe's  fleet,  just  arrived 
from  England,  and  that  day  anchored  off  Clifton,  Staten  Island. 

Along  towards  the  middle  of  the  night  the  gunboat  was 
seen  coming  slowly  through  the  Achter  Koll.  In  the  soft 
moonlight  the  craft  was  plainly  distinguishable  to  our  Argus- 
eyed  soldiers  keeping  watch  and  ward  along  the  shore.  As  any 
effort  they  could  make  against  the  ship  with  their  smooth-bore 
muskets  would  be  impotent,  they  maintained  a  painful  silence, 
feeling  assured  that  when  it  reached  the  battery  our  guns  would 
give  a  good  account  of  themselves. 

The  commander  of  the  vessel,  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the 
possession  of  artillery  by  the  Americans,  sailed  unconcernedly 
and  tranquilly  over  the  placid  water.  Like  most  British  officers 
at  that  period  of  the  war,  he  had  profound  contempt  for  Ameri- 
can militiamen,  whom  he  did  not  consider  foemen  worthy  of  his 
steel. 

Captain  Neill,  who  had  been  on  the  qui  vive  for  some  time, 
on  learning  of  the  vessel's  approach,  impatiently  awaited  a  closer 
proximity  in  order  that  his  shots  might  be  fully  effective,  and 
his  welcome  to  the  stranger  more  hearty  if  less  hospitable.  His 
guns,  ready  shotted,  were  admirably  posted  close  to  the  water, 
and  matches  already  lighted  by  the  fire-workers. 

It  was  only  when  the  vessel,  but  slowly  making  its  way 
through  the  silver-rippled  water  owing  to  the  lightness  of  the 
breeze,  reached  a  point  directly  opposite  the  redoubt  occupied 
by  Captain  Neill,  that  his  dogs  of  war  were  loosened,  and  from 
their  brazen  throats  belched  forth  sheets  of  bright  red  flame, 
preceded  by  iron  missiles  which  swept  the  deck  of  the  boat, 
carrying  death,  destruction  and  dismay  to  the  hitherto  confident 
and  unsuspecting  crew. 

The  salvo,  like  a  clap  of  thunder  from  a  serene  sky,  whose 
vibrations  accumulated  and  rolled  across  the  waters  and  along 


18  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

Staten  Island's  beautiful  hills,  ruthlessly  awaking  sleeping  thun- 
ders of  the  woods,  was  followed  by  a  rain  of  merciless  iron, 
utterly  demoralizing  the  officers  and  crew,  and  creating  scenes 
of  indescribable  confusion  and  terror.  A  state  of  chaos  ensued ; 
discipline  was  thrown  to  the  winds — it  was  every  man  for  him- 
self. The  distracted  sailors,  finding  themselves  in  a  trap,  and 
seeing  no  way  of  escape  save  by  surrender,  deserted  the  vessel 
by  jumping  overboard.  At  least  those  did  who  had  not  been 
killed  or  maimed  by  the  well-directed  fire  of  our  artillerymen. 

Those  who  thus  sought  safety  by  springing  into  the  water, 
endeavored  to  reach  either  shore ;  most  of  them,  however,  struck 
•out  for  the  Jersey  side  on  account  of  its  nearness.  Some  suc- 
ceeded in  gaining  the  Staten  Island  shore,  but  many  failed  to 
reach  either. 

Meanwhile  the  craft,  totally  disabled,  drifted  with  the  out- 
going tide,  no  attempt  being  made  by  any  on  board  to  work  any 
of  the  fourteen  guns  with  which  it  was  armed. 

When  Captain  Neill,  true-hearted  soldier  that  he  was,  saw 
the  desperate  helplessness  of  the  British  sailors,  and  their  at- 
tempts to  save  themselves,  he  ceased  firing,  and  sent  men  to 
rescue  them  from  watery  graves.  The  boat  was  carried  by  the 
tide  beyond  the  mouth  of  the  Elizabeth  river,  and,  being  in 
flames,  went  down  to  Davy  Jones'  capacious  locker  just  after 
passing  the  spot  now  occupied  by  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  rail- 
road bridge. 

Some  thirty  years  ago  oystermen  raked  up  a  large  number 
•of  British  coins  and  other  articles  from  this  spot,  and  many  be- 
lieved the  treasure  was  at  one  time  possessed  by  the  sailors  of 
the  ill-fated  gunboat. 

General  Livingston,  who  had  remained  with  Captain  Neill 
and  witnessed  the  attack  and  destruction  of  the  vessel,  at  once 
wrote  the  following  dispatch  to  General  Washington,  sending  it 
off  poste-haste: 

"E.  Town,  July  4,  1776— midnight. 

"One  of  the  enemy's  sloops  of  war,  mounting  fourteen  guns, 
"having  this  evening  run  up  to  this  Point,  was  attacked  from 
the  shore  by  the  12-pounders,  a  great  number  of  her  men  killed, 
she  set  on  fire,  and  entirely  destroyed." 

As  Captain  Neill's  attack  on  the  British  gunboat  occurred 
at  midnight  July  4,  1776,  there  can  be  no  shadow  of  doubt  that 
his  guns  were  the  first  ones  fired  after  the  immortal  Declaration 
of  Independence  was  adopted,  the  congress  in  session  at  Phila- 
delphia, having  formally  performed  this  act  between  9  and  10 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL   WARS.  19 

o'clock  that  evening.  It  was  the  first  exploit  of  the  new-born 
nation,  and  a  gallant  young  patriot,  a  citizen  of  this  province, 
carried  it  to  success. 

Captain  Neill  and  his  battery  was  shortly  after  assigned  to 
Colonel  Thomas  Proctor's  regiment  of  artillery,  and  subsequently 
to  the  brigade  of  artillery  commanded  by  General  Knox,  one 
of  the  bravest  and  purest  officers  in  the  Continental  Army.  The 
battery  participated  in  the  battles  of  Trenton,  Assanpink  Creek. 
Princeton  and  Monmouth.  At  Princeton  the  heroic  Neill  sealed 
his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  American  liberty  and  independence 
with  his  life's  blood,  being  instantly  killed  by  a  British  sharp- 
shooter, just  after  the  gallant  General  Hugh  Mercer,  a  patriotic 
Scotsman,  was  mortally  wounded. 

FIRST  BATTLE  OF  SPRINGFIELD. 

^  I  "'HE  darkest  and  most  unpromising  period  of  the  patriots  in 
the  American  revolution  was  the  two  closing  months  of 
1776.  The  sad  ending  of  the  campaign  on  Long  Island, 
causing  the  expulsion  of  the  American  army  from  New  York 
City,  sent  a  thrill  of  horror  and  distrust  throughout  the  entire 
country,  and  when  Washington,  in  November,  with  the  wreck 
of  his  illy-clothed  and  poorly-provided  force,  not  more  than  3,500 
strong,  hastily  retreated  through  New  Jersey,  closely  followed 
by  a  powerful  army  under  Lord  Cornwallis,  it  seemed  as  if  all 
hope  for  liberty  and  independence  had  fled. 

The  tories,  although  few  in  number,  with  brethren  of  the 
same  ilk  on  Staten  Island  and  in  New  York,  loudly  predicted 
that  the  authority  of  King  George  would  soon  be  re-established 
and  vauntingly  declared  the  Declaration  of  Independence  to  be 
an  idle  boast.  While  the  tories  -reveled  in  these  delights,  the 
most  enthusiastic  patriots  were  dispirited  by  recent  events.  Since 
the  landing  of  the  British  army  on  Staten  Island,  July  2,  the 
patriots  of  New  Jersey  had  been  in  a  constant  state  of  alarm. 
Members  of  families  had  become  estranged  and  intercourse  was 
far  from  cordial.  Nobody  knew  whom  to  trust,  so  uncertain 
was  the  doleful  state  of  affairs. 

The  superbly  appointed  army  of  Cornwallis  quickly  spread 
itself  over  eastern  New  Jersey,  occupying  the  most  important 
points.  As  he  continued  in  pursuit  of  Washington,  Cornwallis 
left  detachments  in  Newark,  Elizabethtown,  Spanktown  (Rah- 
way),  Woodbridge  and  New  Brunswick. 

Colonel  Jacob  Ford,  Jr.,  of  Morris  county,  had  managed 


20  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

to  assemble  several  hundred  militiamen  and  took  position  among 
them  beyond  the  Short  Hills,  toward  Chatham,  while  Major 
Oliver  Spencer,  of  Elizabethtown,  with  some  two  hundred 
boys,  marched  to  Springfield  to  guard  that  section  from 
an  expected  raid  of  the  British  from  Newark.  It  was  just  be- 
fore this  that  Colonel  Ford  adopted  novel  means  of  apprising 
people  in  his  section  of  threatened  danger.  He  had  been  for- 
tunate in  securing  an  old  18-pound  iron  gun,  which  he  planted 
on  a  commanding  eminence  at  Springfield,  placing  as  its  com- 
panion a  tar  barrel  at  the  top  of  a  lofty  hickory  pole  nearby. 
This  was  to  be  set  on  fire  when  the  cannon  sounded  an  alarm. 
If  by  day,  an  immense  volume  of  black  smoke  would  ascend;  if 
by  night,  the  bright  blaze  could  be  seen  for  many  miles.  These 
were  to  be  regarded  as  signals  of  imminent  danger  to  the  people 
of  the  surrounding  country  as  well  as  an  order  to  the  minutemen 
to  hasten  to  the  appointed  rendezvous  for  service. 

Very  little  has  been  recorded  in  history  of  the  first  battle 
of  Springfield,  which  took  place  late  in  the  afternoon  of  Decem- 
ber 17,  1776,  four  years  previous  to  the  more  important  and  bril- 
liant engagement,  in  which  Major  Oliver  Spencer,  one  of  the  best 
soldiers  in  the  Continental  army,  won  renown  and  a  colonel's 
commission  by  distinguished  gallantry. 

General  Leslie,  commanding  a  British  brigade  of  more  than 
2,000  men,  had  been  left  in  Elizabethtown  by  Cornwallis,  with 
instructions  to  make  incursions  into  the  interior  to  annoy  the 
people  and  secure  cattle  and  forage. 

It  was  early  on  the  morning  of  December  17  that  Leslie  left 
Elizabethtown  for  Plainfield,  but  as  the  farmers  had  gathered 
and  attacked  him  at  various  points  along  che  road,  he  halted 
at  Westfield,  and  finding  but  little  to  encourage  a  further  advance 
in  a  westerly  direction,  started  at  noon  on  his  return,  taking  the 
road  leading  east  to  Springfield,  where  he  hoped  to  be  more 
successful  in  securing  needed  supplies. 

Major  Spencer's  videttes,  posted  along  this  road  near 
Springfield,  first  to  discover  the  British  advance,  sounded  an 
alarm,  upon  which  the  signal-gun  was  discharged  for  the  first 
time  and  the  tar  barrel  set  ablaze.  Major  Spencer,  surprised  at 
the  approach  of  the  enemy  from  the  direction  of  Westfield, 
instantly  dispatched  Nathaniel  Crane,  of  Captain  Marsh's  light 
horse  as  an  express  rider  to  notify  Colonel  Ford  at  Chatham,  that 
the  enemy,  in  strong  force,  was  advancing  on  Springfield.  It 
is  said  that  young  Crane,  a  thorough  horseman,  made  the  four 
miles  in  less  than  nineteen  minutes. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  21 

Notwithstanding  the  great  speed  at  which  he  rode  over  the 
hills,  his  ride  was  a  task  of  supererogation,  as  when  he  reached 
Colonel  Ford's  trusty  minutemen,  he  found  the  command  already 
in  line  and  ready  to  march  to  the  defense  of  Springfield — the 
reverberations  of  the  old  cannon  below  having  given  notification 
of  threatened  danger. 

Meantime,  Major  Spencer,  with  his  meagre  force,  had 
fiercely  resisted  the  advance  of  the  British,  contesting  every  foot 
of  the  ground,  never  giving  way  until  his  flanks  were  seriously 
threatened.  Upon  reaching  the  main  road  running  north  (now 
Morris  avenue),  Major  Spencer  slowly  retreated  toward  Chat- 
ham, confident  of  soon  meeting  the  reinforcements  he  had  sent 
for. 

His  brave  heart  leaped  with  joy  when  he  saw  Colonel  Ford 
and  a  thousand  minute-men  hastening  toward  him.  The  two 
commanders  had  a  conference  at  Briant's  tavern,  and  promptly 
made  dispositions  to  attack  the  enemy,  which,  they  learned,  had 
occupied  Springfield. 

To  Major  Spencer  and  his  Elizabethtown  boys,  was  assigned 
the  post  of  honor  (in  battle,  always  the  place  of  danger).  They 
were  to  advance  and  attack  the  centre,  where  the  main  body 
of  the  enemy  was  naturally  posted.  The  British  line  extended 
from  a  point  west  of  the  village  in  an  easterly  direction  to  the 
Vauxhall  road  near  Millburn. 

Captain  Job  Bloomfield,  of  the  Morris  county  battalion, 
crossed  over  to  Vauxhall  road,  and  made  a  determined  attack  on 
the  enemy's  right,  while  Captain  Sylvanus  Seeley,  of  the  same 
battalion,  commanded  the  detachment  detailed  to  make  an  attack 
on  the  enemy's  left,  resting  along  the  Westfield  road.  Colonel 
Ford,  with  the  remainder  of  his  battalion,  advanced  on  the  left 
of  the  Morristown  road,  keeping  within  supporting  distance  of 
Major  Spencer,  while  Captain  (afterward  Lieutenant- Colonel) 
Elezor  Lindsley,  of  the  Elizabethtown  battalion,  marched  on  a 
parallel  line  on  the  right  of  the  road. 

The  sun,  low  on  the  southwestern  horizon,  was  casting 
lengthening  shadows,  when  Major  Spencer's  little  force,  which 
had  advanced  cautiously  through  the  dense  underbrush,  got 
within  effective  shooting  distance,  and  opened  a  galling  fire  on 
the  British  line,  posted  on  the  right  bank  of  a  considerable  creek 
running  through  the  northerly  end  of  the  village.  The  fighting 
continued  along  the  entire  line,  a  mile  and  more  in  extent,  when 
darkness  put  an  end  to  the  conflict.  Neither  side  had.  won,  but 
as  the  British  had  a  strong  position  and  were  superior  in  num- 


22  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

bers,  the  little  American  band  fell  back  about  a  mile  to  higher 
ground,  where  it  would  have  a  more  advantageous  position  in- 
case the  enemy  advanced  in  that  direction. 

Here  the  Americans  went  into  bivouac,  starting  bright  fires 
to  keep  from  freezing.  Sleep  being  impossible  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, the  men  talked  over  the  events  of  the  day,  and  all 
through  the  long  night  kept  muskets  in  hand,  longing  for  an- 
other day,  that  they  might  again  assail  the  dastard  foe.  But 
their  expectations  in  this  respect  were  doomed  to  disappointment, 
as  when  the  sun  rose  that  intensely  cold  December  morn,  nothing 
was  to  be  seen  or  heard  of  the  enemy,  which  had  taken  advan- 
tage of  the  cover  of  darkness  to  retreat,  carrying  its  dead  and 
wounded  along  in  wagons.  The  British  commander  had  no 
idea,  on  starting  out,  that  he  would,  before  the  sun  went  down, 
meet  with  such  a  force  of  Americans,  or  that  the  wagons  he- 
took  along  to  convey  stolen  goods  would  be  required  for  any 
other  purpose.  From  the  haste  with  which  he  left  the  battle- 
field, it  was  evident  he  was  as  glad  to  retire  from  Springfield 
as  Sir  Henry  Clinton  was  that  pretty  day  in  June,  four  years 
afterward. 

General  Leslie,  during  the  night,  retreated  to  Newark,  enter- 
ing that  town  during  the  forenoon.  The  Americans  were  greatly 
encouraged  with  the  result  of  the  engagement,  claiming  a  victory, 
as  it  undoubtedly  was,  the  enemy  having  abandoned  the  field. 
At  all  events,  it  was  the  first  time  that  the  British  soldier  turned 
his  back  and  fled  from  "insignificant  rebels,"  as  American  patriots 
were  denominated.  The  battle,  small  as  such  an  affair  may  be 
considered  in  these  days  of  warfare,  gave  the  Jersey  Blues  con- 
fidence, and  taught  them  the  British  soldier  was  not  invincible. 

Tradition  has  it  that  the  farmer  boys  of  Morris  county,  who 
fought  so  heroically,  vied  with  the  Elizabethtowners  in  deeds 
of  daring,  and  that  the  chivalrous  Spencer,  mounted  upon  a 
spirited  horse,  performed  prodigies  in  dashing  along  the  line, 
thus  inspiring  his  men  with  his  indomitable  courage.  Major 
Spencer's  intrepidity  attracted  the  attention  of  the  enemy,  whose 
sharpshooters,  failing  to  "bring  him  down,"  as  they  had  been 
commanded,  riddled  his  uniform  with  bullets.  At  one  time, 
while  dashing  across  an  open  space,  and  quite  close  to  the  British, 
he  opened  fire  with  two  pistols,  his  men  sending  up  a  cheer  that 
awoke  the  grand  old  hills  in  their  rear.  One  might  think  such 
an  act  would  awaken  a  feeling  of  admiration  among  the  British, 
but  they  failed  to  appreciate  the  heroism  of  the  peerless  horse- 
man, and  gave  vent  to  their  feelings  by  pouring  a  volley  at 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  23 

point-blank  range  at  the  gallant  major,  whose  noble  charger  fell 
dead,  under  the  terrific  fire.  The  major,  who  had  received 
a  wound,  being  unable  to  extricate  himself  from  underneath  the 
dead  animal,  was  rescued  from  his  perilous  position  by  his  men,, 
despite  the  great  danger  incurred  in  performing  the  heroic  act. 
and  within  the  folds  of  his  silken  sash,  which  he  always  wore  in. 
battle,  was  borne  unconscious  to  the  rear. 

Major  Spencer,  for  his  skill  and  bravery  on  this  occasion,, 
was  immediately  promoted  to  a  colonelcy,  an  honor  he  richly 
merited.  He  served  faithfully  throughout  the  entire  war,  being 
mustered  out  of  the  army  after  peace  had  been  proclaimed  in 
1783. 

Sad  to  relate,  Colonel  Ford,  who  willingly  divided  the  hon- 
ors of  the  day  with  his  compatriot,  Major  Spencer,  died  at  Mor- 
ristown  on  the  llth  of  January,  1777,  less  than  a  month  after 
the  battle.  Owing  to  the  great  exposure  and  the  responsibility 
resting  upon  him,  he  was  attacked  with  pleuro-pneumonia,  and 
died  after  a  brief  illness.  He  was  40  years  old.  His  father,. 
Colonel  Jacob  Ford,  Sr.,  died  at  Morristown  upon  hearing  the 
news  of  the  victory  won  by  his  gallant  son  and  Major  Spencer. 
Colonel  Ford  was  accorded  a  military  funeral  by  order  of  Gen,- 
eral  Washington,  Major  Spencer  commanding  the  escort. 


HEROISM  OF  MARYLAND  TROOPS. 

MY  main  object  in  this  chapter  is  to  imbue  the  minds  of 
youths  with  patriotism;  to  show  of  what  kind  of  stuff 
the  boys  were  composed  in  the  days  of  the  American 
revolution,  and  to  describe  fierce  contests  in  which  many  of 
them  engaged  one  hot  day  in  August,  1777,  while  laboring  to 
establish  our  blessed  government. 

For  seven  long  and  trying  years,  from  July  4,  1776,  when 
Captain  Daniel  Neill,  with  his  artillery,  destroyed  a  British  sloop 
of  war  at  the  foot  of  Elizabeth  Avenue,  to  March  31,  1783,  when 
the  last  act  in  the  bloody  revolutionary  drama  was  performed  by 
Major  William  Crane  of  "Spencer's  Regiment,"  resulting  in  the 
capture  of  two  British  sloops  of  war,  lying  within  pistol  shot 
of  each  other  off  the  Battery  in  New  York,  the  people  of  Eliza- 
bethtown  suffered  untold  horrors  from  forays  by  the  enemy, 
which  took  delight  in  rapine,  murder  and  arson. 

It  was  in  consequence  of  the  numerous  predatory  excur- 


24  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

sions  of  the  British  and  tories  to  the  town  and  vicinity  that 
Colonel  Matthias  Ogden,  a  native,  and  one  of  its  best  defend- 
ers all  through  the  war,  suggested  to  General  John  Sullivan, 
his  immediate  commander,  encamped  at  Hanover,  Sussex 
county,  with  a  considerable  force,  the  propriety  of  invading 
Staten  Island  in  Mifficient  strength  to  make  reprisals.  Colonel 
Ogden,  an  ardent  patriot,  always  anxious  for  a  fight,  had  no 
difficulty  in  convincing  General  Sullivan  that  if  the  project  was 
promptly  undertaken,  success  was  reasonably  assured. 

General  Sullivan,  pleased  to  take  Colonel  Ogden's  view  of 
the  matter,  at  once  arranged  an  expeditionary  force  to  carry 
out  the  object  stated.  Sullivan  came  to  this  state  with  a  high 
reputation  as  a  fighter,  and  his  men  having  the  utmost  confi- 
dence in  his  ability,  cheerfully  engaged  in  the  enterprise. 

Everything  being  in  readiness  General  Sullivan  selected 
1,000  picked  men  from  the  brigades  of  Generals  Smallwood  and 
De  Borre,  and  marched  rapidly  to  Elizabethtown,  reaching  it  at 
10  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  August  22,  1777.  Colonel 
Matthias  Ogden,  with  his  own  First  New  Jersey  Regiment,  and 
most  of  Colonel  Dayton's  Third  New  Jersey  Regiment,  and  some 
100  militiamen  from  Colonel  Frelinghuysen's  command,  who 
liad  been  ordered  to  join  the  expedition,  had  previously  marched 
to  Elizabethtown  Point,  and  south  along  the  water  front  to  a 
point  opposite  "Fresh  Kill"  (now  Green  Ridge),  Staten  Island, 
where  the  entire  force  embarked  in  boats  and  was  rowed 
across  the  sound,  and  up  a  creek  to  the  high  ground.  Colonel 
Ogden  reached  the  main  road  running  from  Richmond  to  Tot- 
tenville  long  before  daybreak. 

General  Sullivan  and  his  column  were  conveyed  in  boats 
from  the  Point  to  Palmer's  Run,  between  Castleton  and  North- 
field,  on  the  north  shore.  General  Smallwood  was  to  attack 
Major  Van  Buskirk's  battalion  of  Skinner's  brigade,  numbering 
250  men,  at  Decker's  Ferry  (now  Port  Richmond),  while  General 
De  Borre  was  to  assail  Lieutenant-Colonel  Barton,  250  men  of 
Skinner's  brigade,  encamped  near  New  Blazing  Star  ferry  (now 
Linoleumville). 

If  Colonel  Ogden,  to  whom  had  been  deputed  the  chief  duty, 
succeeded  in  defeating  the  force  he  was  first  to  meet,  he'  was 
directed  to  follow  it  up  by  attacking  Lieutenant-Colonel  Edward 
Vaughn  Dongan's  battalion  on  the  Morning  Star  road,  near 
Northfield,  and  if  again  successful,  to  advance  at  once  upon  the 
position  held  by  Lieutenant-Colonel  Allen  on  the  Amboy  road, 
midway  between  shore  and  Graniteville. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS. 


25 


Colonel  Ogden  displayed  the  highest  attributes  of  a  soldier 
in  getting  his  command  across  the  sound,  and  in  gaining  the 
desired  point  without  discovery  by  the  enemy.  He  had  sur- 
rounded the  British  post  long  before  daybreak,  and  only  waited 
the  coming  of  Aurora's  rays  to  carry  his  well-laid  plans  for  its 
capture  into  execution.  When  the  eastern  firmament  began 
to  be  illumined  by  the  glorious  orb  of  day,  and  golden  beams 
overspread  the  scene,  Colonel  Ogden's  men  charged  impetuously 
upon  the  silent  camp,  whose  occupants  were  unaware  of  the 
presence  of  the  Americans  until  summoned  to  surrender.  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Lawrence,  the  commandant,  and  83  men  of  Skin- 
ner's brigade,  promptly  complied  without  firing  a  shot.  They 
were  at  once  put  under  guard  and  escorted  to  the  ferry,  and 
transported  across  the  sound  to  this  side,  and  before  nightfall 
safely  confined  in  the  court  house  building,  destroyed  by  fire  two 
or  three  years  later. 

Having  succeeded  in  carrying  out  General  Sullivan's  in- 
structions, Colonel  Ogden  immediately  took  up  a  line  of  march 
towards  Morning  Star  Road,  to  attack  Colonel  Dongan's  force, 
which  he  found  in  a  strong  defensive  position,  and  prepared  to 
make  a  stiff  fight.  The  New  Jersey  boys,  however,  covered 
by  large  trees,  took  careful  aim,  and  wasted  neither  powder 
nor  ball,  and  within  an  hour  had  the  enemy  on  the  run,  Colonel 
Ogden  leading  them  in  a  gallant  charge.  Colonel  Dongan 
displayed  great  bravery,  and  while  urging  his  men  to  resist  the 
advance  of  the  Americans,  was  shot  through  the  body,  dying  on 
the  following  day.  Seeing  his  commander  fall,  Major  Drum- 
mond  assumed  command,  and  made  repeated  efforts  to  stop  the 
flight  of  his  men,  who  only  halted  when  they  joined  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Allen's  battalion  on  the  Amboy  Road. 

The  combined  force  made  a  stand,  and  fought  desperately 
for  some  time,  but  the  Jersey  brigade,  smarting  under  outrages 
these  same  men  of  Skinner's  command  had  committed  in  New 
Jersey,  poured  in  deadly  shots,  and  the  enemy,  no  longer  able 
to  withstand  the  withering  fire,  fled  in  disorder  to  Prince's 
Bay,  where  they  sought  safety  in  the  entrenchments  lining  the 
shore  at  that  point. 

Colonel  Ogden,  had  his  orders  allowed,  could  have  bagged 
the  party  there.  He  and  his  brave  boys  regretted  the  orders 
were  circumscribed.  No  alternative  left,  Colonel  Ogden,  hav- 
ing accomplished  his  undertaking,  retrograded  to  Old  Blazing 
Star  (now  Rossville),  to  await  the  anticipated  arrival  of  General 
Sullivan  and  his  command.  Hearing  nothing  from  Sullivan, 


26  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

after  a  long  wait,  Colonel  Ogden  and  his  men  embarked  in 
their  boats  and  were  speedily  conveyed  to  the  Jersey  shore. 

Soon  after  Colonel  Ogden  engaged  the  enemy  at  daybreak, 
General  De  Borre's  brigade  attacked  Colonel  Barton's  battalion 
at  the  New  Blazing  Star  (now  Linoleumville),  and  after  a  brief 
resistance,  seeing  the  superiority  of  the  American  force,  the 
British  broke  from  cover,  and  sought  safety  in  flight.  Many 
of  them  were  so  panic-stricken  that  they  seized  boats  lying  at 
the  ferry  and  crossed  to  the  Jersey  side,  while  others,  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  country,  took  refuge  in  the  dense  woods 
near  at  hand.  Colonel  Barton  and  some  forty  of  his  men  were 
taken  prisoners.  •  The  Americans  in  this  fight  captured  a 
British  stand  of  colors,  some  blankets,  arms  and  clothing.  Gen- 
eral De  Borre's  men  burned  several  British  vessels  lying  at 
the  ferry. 

General  Smallwood's  column  having  come  up,  General 
Sullivan  moved  towards  Richmond,  expecting  to  meet  Colonel 
Ogden's  force,  but  hearing  nothing  from  Ogden  before  reaching 
that  village,  turned  to  the  right  and  moved  to  Old  Blazing 
Star  (now  Rossville),  where  he  was  surprised  to  learn  that  Ogden 
and  his  command  had  already  crossed  the  sound.  The  latter 
had  waited  for  his  superior  longer  than  his  orders  warranted,  and 
fearing  further  delay  to  be  unnecessarily  hazardous,  concluded 
that  safety  alone  was  to  be  found  on  this  side. 

When  General  Sullivan  reached  the  ferry  and  found  neither 
Ogden  or  his  boats,  he  began  to  fear  for  the  safety  of  his  com- 
mand. Without  artillery,  and  ammunition  almost  exhausted,  and 
a  large  force  of  British  regulars  from  Tompkinsville  (then 
a  watering  place),  and  what  remained  of  Skinner's  brigade,  gath- 
ering in  his  rear,  and  a  wide  and  deep  river  (sound)  intervening 
in  front,  no  boats  or  relief  in  sight,  and  night  coming  on,  his 
position  seemed  perilous  in  the  extreme.  He  made  an  attempt 
to  get  the  boats  from  this  side  which  Colonel  Ogden  had  used, 
but  they  were  out  of  sight  of  his  messengers.  •  After  some  delay 
three  boats  were  discovered,  and  in  these  his  men  were  conveyed 
across  the  sound.  It  was  a  laborious  task,  and  attended  by  mani- 
fold dangers. 

Shortly  after  the  embarkation  of  the  troops  had  commenced, 
the  British  appeared  in  strong  force,  but  were  kept  at  a  consid- 
erable distance  from  Sullivan's  main  body  at  the  water's  edge, 
by  eighty  Marylanders,  commanded  by  Majors  Stewart  and  Til- 
lard,  who  maintained  a  well-directed  fire  from  their  rifles.  It 
was  through  the  gallant  efforts  of  the  Marylanders  that  the 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  27" 

enemy  was  held  back  until  all  of  Sullivan's  troops  were  safely 
conveyed  across  the  sound.  So  heroically  did  the  brave  South- 
rons contest  the  advance  of  the  British  that  the  latter  were  re- 
peatedly driven  from  points  of  vantage.  The  small  force  of 
Marylanders,  however,  was  at  length  compelled  to  retire  from 
the  high  ground  and  take  positions  near  the  water,  until  it 
stood,  like  a  lion  at  bay,  within  twenty  rods  of  the  water. 

By  this  time  the  British  brought  up  several  pieces  of 
artillery,  and  opened  with  grape  and  canister  upon  the  little  but 
determined  band  of  heroes  which  had  so  long  and  tenaciously 
held  a  perilous  position  while  safeguarding  the  retirement  of 
the  Americans.  After  the  British  cannon  were  brought  into 
action  it  was  impossible  to  get  the  boatmen  to  return  to  the 
Staten  Island  shore,  and  so  no  alternative  was  left  the  brave  rear- 
guard except  to  die  or  surrender.  When  the  Marylanders  had 
expended  their  last  cartridge,  and  with  the  last  hope  of  cross- 
ing the  sound  gone,  they  raised  a  white  flag  and  about  forty  of 
them  became  prisoners.  Some  sprang  into  the  water  and  suc- 
ceeded in  swimming  across  the  sound,  but  a  number  were 
drowned  in  the  excitement. 

General  Sullivan,  in  a  letter  to  congress,  gives  the  following 
summary  of  his  operations: 

"In  this  expedition  we  landed  on  an  island  possessed  by 
the  enemy ;  put  to  rout  six  regiments ;  killed,  wounded  and  made 
prisoners  at  least  four  or  five  hundred  of  the  enemy ;  vanquished 
every  party  that  collected  against  us ;  destroyed  there  great  quan- 
tities of  stores ;  took  one  vessel  and  destroyed  six ;  took  a  con- 
siderable number  of  arms,  blankets,  many  cattle,  horses,  etc. ; 
marched  victorious  through  the  island,  and  in  the  whole  course 
of  the  day  lost  not  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  men,  most 
of  whom  were  lost  by  the  imprudence  of  themselves  and  officers. 
Some  few,  indeed,  were  lost  by  cross-accidents,  which  no  human 
foresight  could  have  prevented." 

General  Sullivan  was  sharply  criticised  for  his  failure  to 
have  boats  at  the  point  he  desired  to  recross  the  sound,  whereby 
the  safety  of  his  own  column  was  imperiled,  and  as  he  was 
blamed  for  his  conduct  at  Brandywine,  where  he  failed  to  carry 
out  orders,  he  threw  up  his  commission  in  disgust,  and  took  no 
further  part  in  the  war. 

The  redeeming  features  of  the  expedition  were  the  brilliant 
and  successful  operations  of  Colonel  Ogden  and  his  New  Jersey 
boys,  and  the  heroic  defence  made  by  the  Maryland  troops  in 
holding  at  bay  for  several  hours  a  superior  force  of  the  enemy, 
while  Sullivan's  troops  crossed  to  this  side. 


28  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 


,NEW  JERSEY  SOLDIERS  BATTLED  WITH  INDIANS. 

1WILL    devote  this  chapter    to    the  operations  of    General 
William  Maxwell's  New  Jersey  Brigade,  which  took  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  long  and  wearisome  march  from  this 
town  to  northwestern  Pennsylvania  in  the  summer  of  1779,  and 
in  the  short  but  decisive  campaign  in  which  it  engaged  against 
the  Six  Nation  Confederacy  of  Indian  barbarians,  for  the  foul 
outrages  it  had  committed  the  previous  year  upon  soldiers  and 
peaceful  settlers  in  Wyoming  Valley,  culminating  in  the  brutal 
massacre    of    several     hundred     defenceless     men,  women  and 
children. 

The  tales  of  butchery  in  that  lovely  and  fertile  valley  in  1778 
and  the  cries  of  mothers  and  children,  outraged  and  driven  from 
their  burning  homes  into  the  wilds  of  the  almost  impenetrable 
forests  in  that  region,  heard  over  the  civilized  world,  received 
the  execration  of  mankind,  and  brought  fearful  retribution,  not 
only  upon  the  savages,  but  upon  the  soldiers  of  King  George, 
who  paid  ten  dollars  in  gold  for  each  human  scalp. 

A  year  passed  ere  Washington  could  attempt  to  avenge  the 
barbarities  committed  with  the  aid  and  approval  of  the  British 
authorities,  and  then  retribution  came  surely  and  swiftly,  the 
leading  part  being  assigned  to  three  New  Jersey  regiments, 
which  performed  the  dangerous  and  onerous  duties  in  a  soldier- 
like way,  and  to  the  eminent  satisfaction  of  congress  and  the 
commander-in-chief. 

General  Maxwell's  brigade,  after  the  battle  of  Monmouth, 
in  which  it  gained  distinction,  came  to  Elizabeth  to  recuperate 
and  obtain  needed  supplies  in  the  way  of  clothing  and  shoes, 
which  it  stood  badly  in  need  of.  It  spent  the  winter  of  1778-79 
here,  and  having  enjoyed  a  long  rest,  was  selected  by  General 
Washington  for  active  duty  in  the  campaign  he  had  decided  to 
wage  against  the  Seneca  Indians  in  northwestern  Pennsylvania. 

It  was  in  the  mellow  weather,  when  the  buds  of  May  were 
bursting  into  the  blossoms  of  June,  and  all  nature  was  glad  with 
the  bright  promise  of  the  coming  summers  generous  life,  that 
the  brigade,  which  then  consisted  of  Colonel  Israel  Shreve's 
Second  New  Jersey,  Colonel  Elias  Dayton's  Third  New  Jersey, 
Colonel  David  Forman's  New  Jersey  Regiment  (mostly  Mary- 
landers),  Colonel  Elisha  Sheldon's  (Connecticut)  Regiment  of 
Light  Dragoons,  and  a  battery  of  light  artillery,  took  its  depar- 
ture from  the  town  to  join  the  expedition,  which  Washington 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  29 

had  entrusted  to  Major  General  John  Sullivan,  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, one  of  the  truest  officers  in  the  army.  Many  friends  of 
the  soldiers  accompanied  them  several  miles  on  the  way,  and  the 
leave-takings  were  sorrowful,  owing  to  misgivings  as  to  the 
outcome  of  the  battles  which  might  be  looked  for  with  crafty 
enemies  in  the  wilderness. 

The  brigade  reached  the  general  rendezvous,  Wyoming 
(now  Wilkes-Barre),  in  August,  after  a  long  and  fatiguing  march. 
The  other  commands,  composing  the  expedition,  arrived  shortly 
afterward  by  way  of  New  York,  and  while  awaiting  their  ap- 
proach the  Jersey  brigade  marched  up  the  Chemung  river,  a 
distance  of  twelve  miles,  to  a  village  of  that  name,  where  the  first 
Indians  were  encountered.  Although  the  Jerseymen  advanced 
upon  the  village  in  broad  day,  they  fell  into  an  ambuscade,  and 
sustained  quite  a  loss  in  killed  and  wounded.  Surprised  by  the 
attack,  they  quickly  took  to  cover,  and  finally  compelled  the 
savages  to  retire.  The  Jerseymen,  in  revenge,  after  driving 
the  enemy  through  the  village,  set  the  place  on  fire,  destroying 
every  habitation,  cut  down  several  acres  of  corn,  and  retired 
to  Wyoming  late  in  the  afternoon,  carrying  along  their  dead  and 
wounded  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  corn,  pumpkins  and  garden 
truck,  which  they  conveyed  in  boats  that  had  been  taken  up  the 
river. 

Shortly  after  this,  General  Sullivan  ordered  Colonel  Shreve, 
of  the  Second  New  Jersey,  to  build  a  large  stockade  fort  at  the 
junction  of  the  Susquehanna  and  Chemung  Rivers,  a  few  miles 
away.  The  stockade,  when  completed,  enclosed  ground  100 
yards  square.  It  was  formed  by  digging  a  trench  nearly  three 
feet  deep,  and  standing  logs,  about  twelve  feet  long,  therein. 
Massive  gateways  were  constructed  on  three  sides.  When  the 
brigade,  in  its  forward  movement,  first  reached  the  majestic 
Susquehanna,  which  it  was  necessary  to  cross  at  a  given  point, 
the  battery  opened  fire  on  the  dense  woods  on  the  opposite  side, 
the  presence  of  Indians  being  feared.  Scouts  who  crossed, 
signalling  favorably,  the  brigade  entered  the  swiftly  running 
waters,  which,  in  places,  reached  to  the  men's  armpits. 

Sergeant-Major  Grant,  of  Colonel  Dayton's  Regiment,  in 
describing  the  crossing,  says: 

"The  manner  in  which  it  was  performed  was  by  forming 
platoons,  each  man  grasping  his  fellow's  hand  supported  each 
other.  General  Hand,  who  commanded  the  division,  quit  his 
horse  and  waded  with  cheerfulness.  The  water  was  rapid,  and 
took  the  men  above  the  middle,  notwithstanding,  the  army 


30  HISTORICAL   SKETCHES   OF   THE 

crossed  in  the  space  of  half  an  hour  without  the  loss  of  either 
man  or  horse,  or  any  baggage.  The  sight  was  beautiful  and 
pleasing,  but  must  have  been  very  terrifying  to  the  enemy,  who, 
it  is  very  probable,  saw  us  from  neighboring  hills  which  over- 
look the  water.  We  likewise  crossed  the  Tioga  or  Cayuga 
much  in  the  same  manner  as  before." 

To  Colonel  Shreve,  of  the  Second  New  Jersey  Regiment, 
had  been  assigned  the  care  and  defense  of  Fort  Sullivan,  which 
his  men  had  constructed,  while  the  rest  of  the  army  proceeded 
further  into  the  Indian  country.  His  duties  incurred  great  dili- 
gence and  responsibility.  Besides  his  regiment  of  250  men, 
several  hundred  invalids  were  confided  to  his  keeping.  It  was 
anticipated  that  when  the  expedition  reached  the  interior  battles 
would  be  fought,  so  Colonel  Shreve  was  directed  to  provide 
hospital,  accommodations  for  the  wounded,  and  also  for  the 
removal  of  such  as  could  be  carried  to  Wyoming  in  boats.  He 
performed  his  duties  so  well  that  General  Sullivan,  on  his  return, 
in  general  orders  commended  his  "faithfulness,  zeal  and  dili- 
gence." 

From  August  30  until  September  16,  the  army,  in  pursuit  of 
the  redskins,  voluntarily  subsisted  on  a  half  ration  of  flour  and 
meat,  most  of  which  the  men  carried  in  haversacks.  Their  wants 
were,  of  course,  supplied  with  corn  and  such  vegetables,  planted 
by  the  Indians,  as  could  be  found  in  the  fields  they  devastated. 
A  crow  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  subsist  on  what  was  left 
by  our  army  in  its  terrible  march  through  that  virgin  and  roman- 
tic land.  This  diet,  with  the  early  autumn  weather,  occasioned 
considerable  sickness  among  the  troops,  but  notwithstanding  the 
severity  of  the  long  marches  and  the  dangers  to  which  the  men 
were  constantly  exposed,  the  loss  was  but  41  men,  of  whom  4 
•died  from  sickness,  1  was  drowned,  and  1  accidentally  killed  in 
camp.  The  latter  was  a  captain  in  General  Hand's  brigade. 
Thirty-five  were  killed  in  battle,  and  more  than  100  wounded. 

Pursuit  of  the  Indians  having  ceased,  the  Jersey  Brigade, 
on  its  return,  stopped  at  Fort  Reed,  to  await  the  arrival  of  other 
columns,  and  while  here  General  Maxwell,  so  highly  pleased 
with  the  conduct  of  his  men,  and  the  success  of  the  expedition, 
held  a  jubilee,  which  Lieutenant  William  Barton,  of  the  Second 
New  Jersey  Regiment,  a  native  of  Hunterdon  county,  thus  de- 
scribes : 

«*  *  *  ln  the  forenoon  (September  25),  the  army  all 
discharged  their  muskets,  with  orders  to  parade  at  5  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  each  man  to  be  furnished  with  blank  cartridges. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  31 

According  to  orders  the  whole  paraded  in  a  line  to  fire  a  feu  de 
joie,  when  thirteen  rounds  of  cannon  was  fired.  Then  began  a 
running  fire  of  muskets  from  the  right  through  the  whole ;  this 
not  being  performed  to  the  general's  liking,  he  ordered  the  whole 
to  charge  (load)  again ;  after  this  was  done  he  ordered  the  whole 
to  be  put  in  readiness,  and  not  a  man  fire  until  he  should  come 
opposite  him.  All  being  in  readiness,  he  put  his  horse  off  at 
full  speed  and  rode  from  right  to  left  with  whip  and  spur,  men 
-all  firing  according  to  orders,  which  made  it  very  grand,  and 
caused  the  general  to  say  it  went  like  a  hallelujah.  After  three 
cheers  .given  for  the  congress  in  consequence  of  their  resolutions 
•of  the  18th  of  August,  and  then  three  for  the  United  States,  and 
thirdly  for  the  King  of  Spain,  our  new  ally,  and  thus  the  day 
ended  with  joy,  the  officers  of  each  brigade  furnished  with  one 
of  the  best  bullocks  there  was,  extra." 

The  army  reached  Fort  Sullivan  September  30  at  2  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  marched  into  the  enclosure,  where  it  was 
received  with  military  honors,  the  garrison  turning  out  with 
presented  arms,  the  artillery  firing  a  salute  of  thirteen  guns,  one 
for  each  state.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Adam  Hubley  wrote  of  the 
reception : 

"Colonel  Shreve,  of  the  Second  New  Jersey,  governor  of  the 
garrison,  had  an  elegant  dinner  provided  for  General  Sullivan 
and  all  the  field  officers  of  the  army.  We  regaled  ourselves,  and 
great  joy  and  good  humor  was  visible  in  every  countenance. 
Colonel  Proctor's  band,  and  drums  and  fifes  played  in  concert 
the  whole  time.  Saturday,  October  2,  the  commander-in-chief 
made  an  elegant  entertainment,  and  invited  all  the  general  and 
field  officers  to  dine  with  him.  In  the  evening,  to  conclude  the 
mirth  of  the  day,  we  had  an  Indian  dance,  the  officers  who 
joined  in  it  putting  on  vizors  (alias  Monetas).  The  dance  was 
conducted  and  led  off  by  a  young  Sachem  of  the  Oneida  tribe, 
who  was  next  followed  by  several  other  Indians,  then  the  whole 
led  off,  and  after  the  Indian  custom  danced  to  the  music,  which 
was  a  rattle,  a  knife  and  a  pipe,  which  the  Sachem  continued 
clashing  together  and  singing  Indian  the  whole  time.  At  the 
«nd  of  each  the  Indian  whoop  was  set  up  by  the  whole." 

In  this  expedition  our  army  burned  forty  Indian  villages, 
destroyed  200,000  bushels  of  corn,  besides  thousands  of  fruit 
trees,  and  immense  quantities  of  beans  and  potatoes.  It  was 
successful  in  every  respect  and  extremely  gratifying  to  General 
Washington,  who  in  orders  from  West  Point  October  17,  con- 
gratulated the  army  on  General  Sullivan's  success,  adding  that 


32  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

"the  whole  of  the  soldiery  engaged  in  the  expedition  merit  and 
have  the  commander-in-chiefs  warmest  acknowledgments  for 
their  important  services." 

General  Maxwell's  brigade  returned  to  this  town  the  latter 
part  of  October,  and  met  with  a  hearty  welcome  from  our  peo- 
ple, who,  despite  great  joy  at  again  beholding  their  brave  soldier 
boys,  were  compelled  to  laugh  at  their  appearance — their  apparel 
barely  covering  their  nakedness,  having  been  torn  into  shreds 
by  bushes  and  brambles  through  which  for  several  months  they 
had  been  marching. 


FIERCE  BATTLE  IN  DEEP  SNOW. 

THE  winter  of  1779-80  in  this  region  was  of  terrible  severity, 
causing     intense    suffering    to    man    and    beast.       Cold 
weather  commenced  in  November,  and  snow-storms  fol- 
lowed in  quick  succession.      The  rivers  and  Staten  Island  sound 
remained  solidly  frozen  from  November  to  the  middle  of  March. 
There  was  no  navigation  in  the  waters  about  New  York  for 
nearly  three  months,  the  ice  being  of  such  solidity  that  horses 
and  vehicles  traveled  upon  it  with  greater  facility  than  on  the 
earth. 

It  was  during  this  unexampled  season  that  Washington's 
troops  at  Morristown  suffered  so  much  for  the  necessities  of 
life  owing  to  the  blockade  of  the  roads  by  snow.  Foraging 
parties  had  great  difficulty  in  procuring  and  getting  back  to 
camp  with  needed  supplies,  which  they  were  obliged  to  seek  from 
farmers.  Colonel  Matthias  Ogden,  of  this  town,  was  finally 
selected  by  Washington  to  scour  Essex  county  and  collect 
what  cattle  could  be  found.  Although  he  and  his  foragers 
suffered  more  than  tongue  can  tell  from  intense  cold  and  expo- 
sure, they  managed  to  return  to  the  camps  at  Morristown  and 
the  Short  Hills  with  the  provender  which  the  half-famished  sol- 
diers needed. 

Washington,  about  Christmas  time,  sent  General  William 
Irvine,  of  his  staff,  to  this  town  to  consult  with  Colonel  Elias 
Dayton,  who,  with  his  Third  Regiment,  was  stationed  in  and 
about  the  town,  in  reference  to  the  practicability  of  making  a 
successful  raid  on  Staten  Island.  Irvine  promptly  reported  to 
the  commander-in-chief  that  his  scouts  had  visited  the  island, 
where  they  had  found  but  about  1,200  men  in  all,  most  of  whom 
were  renegade  Americans  without  the  spirit  of  fight,  and  the 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  35 

sound  so  tightly  frozen  that  it  could  be  crossed  in  safety.  Gen- 
eral Irvine's  report,  endorsed  by  Colonel  Dayton,  was  so  roseate 
in  character  that  Washington  at  once  gave  directions  for  a 
movement  of  all  the  troops  in  this  locality  that  could  be  promptly 
and  conveniently  assembled  in  Elizabethtown  within  a  given 
time. 

General  (Lord)  Stirling,  entrusted  with  the  command  of  the 
expedition,  came  down  here  just  after  the  big  snow-storm  of 
January  3,  and  at  once  commenced  preparing  for  the  work  to 
which  he  had  been  assigned.  In  his  labors  he  was  ably  assisted 
by  Colonel  Dayton,  who,  with  his  command,  was  burning  to- 
cross  to  Staten  Island  and  engage  the  tories  and  refugees,  many 
of  whom  had  left  Elizabethtown  early  in  the  war  for  the  good, 
of  the  community  and  the  cause. 

Including  the  eight  companies  of  Colonel  Dayton's  regi- 
ment, General  Stirling,  within  ten  days,  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  a  force  of  2,500  men  assembled  in  this  town. 

It  was  on  the  night  of  January  14  that  this  little  army  ren- 
dezvoused on  the  open  parade  ground  in  front  of  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church  on  Broad  Street,  where  previously  had  been 
collected  a  large  number  of  sleds  and  sleighs,  any  kind  of  a  vehi- 
cle to  which  runners  were  attached,  and  which  could  be  drawn 
by  horses  and  oxen.  These  vehicles  had  not  been  requisitioned 
for  pleasure  purposes,  but  were  to  be  used  solely  for  the  trans- 
portation of  reserve  ammunition,  rations,  medical  supplies,  etc., 
to  break  a  pathway  through  the  snow  which  yet  lay  deep  on 
the  earth,  so  that  the  infantry  could  more  readily  march,  and 
to  bring  back  the  dead  and  the  wounded  should  there  be  any 
casualties. 

Before  daybreak  on  the  morning  of  the  fifteenth  the  column, 
full  of  joyous  spirits,  had  reached  the  ice-bound  sound,  over 
which  it  silently  passed  without  detection  or  resistance  on  the 
part  of  the  enemy.  The  tramp  over  the  salt  meadows,  waist 
deep  in  snow,  to  the  point  now  known  as  Elm  Park,  was  ex- 
tremely fatiguing,  but  the  gallant  men  who  were  suffering  and 
about  to  imperil  their  lives  in  battle,  uttered  no  complaint,  being 
anxious  to  revenge  themselves  upon  the  traitorous  Staten  Island- 
ers, who  bitterly  hated  the  patriots  of  the  town  and  the  cause 
they  represented.  .• 

The  Americans  at  noon  succeeded  in  reaching  the  forks  of 
the  road  at  the  "Blazing  Star,"  now  Rossville,  thus  cutting  off 
the  British  general — Sterling — encamped  within  a  strong  earth- 
work on  Pavilion  Hill,  where  Fort  Wadsworth  now  stands,  from 


34  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

communication  with  Colonel  (Lord)  Rawdon,  commanding  the 
Royal  -Irish  Volunteers,  on  the  easterly  shore  at  the  foot  of 
the  Narrows,  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Simcoe,  in  command  of 
the  "Queen's  Rangers,"  mongrel  Americans,  who  espoused  the 
King's  cause. 

When  the  Americans  reached  the  old  Mill  Road,  now 
Columbia  Street,  New  Brighton,  General  Stirling  divided  his 
force  into  three  columns.  The  smaller  detachment  was  con- 
fided to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Willett,  with  instructions  to  proceed 
to  Decker's  Ferry,  now  Port  Richmond,  and  capture  a  tory 
force  of  some  200  men,  commanded  by  Colonel  Van  Buskirk. 

The  main  column,  commanded  in  person  by  General  Stir- 
ling, marched  as  rapidly  as  possible  along  the  shore  towards 
Tompkinsville,  at  that  period  noted  as  a  summer  resort  for  the 
wealthy  people  of  this  section.  General  Philemon  Dickenson, 
in  command  of  the  other  column,  proceeded  on  the  old  road  to 
Dongan's  Mill,  with  instructions  to  keep  constantly  within  sup- 
porting distance. 

The  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast  when  General  Stirling 
got  within  view  of  the  British  position,  which  was  found  to 
be  more  formidable  than  had  been  expected.  The  strong  re- 
doubts occupied  by  the  British  had  been  made  more  difficult 
to  approach  by  the  recent  heavy  fall  of  snow,  which,  by  drifting, 
had  formed  an  immense  bank  on  the  western  front. 

Long  before  General  Stirling  reached  the  danger  point  his 
advance  had  been  discovered  by  the  enemy,  which  at  once,  made 
preparations  to  resist  attack.  Stirling,  finding  the  enemy  fully 
alert  and  most  advantageously  posted,  and  much  stronger  in 
numbers  than  he  had  anticipated,  with  night  near  at  hand,  went 
into  bivouac,  to  wait  the  advent  of  another  day.  During  the 
fearfully  Cold  night  that  followed,  the  Americans  maintained 
huge  fires,  around  which  they  huddled  to  keep  from  freezing. 
When  day  at  length  broke,  General  Stirling,  learning  that  Knyp- 
hausen  was  despatching  reinforcements  from  New  York,  and 
that  the  force  under  Colonel  Willett  had  completely  surprised 
Van  Buskirk's  tories  at  Decker's  Ferry,  and  burned  nine  sailing 
vessels  and  a  number  of  fishing  boats,  he  ordered  a  retreat,  which 
was  accomplished  without  molestation  on  the  part  of  the  enemy. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Simcoe,  in  command  of  the  British 
cavalry  and  infantry  encamped  on  the  high  grounds  near  Rich- 
mond, on  learning  of  the  approach  of  our  little  army,  in  mortal 
fear  of  an  attack,  hastily  sent  men  out  to  gather  all  the  cattle, 
harness,  horses  and  sleds  in  the  neighborhood,  and  bring  them 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  35 

within  his  defensive  works.  This  precaution  was  in  a  measure 
successful.  Simcoe  hoped,  in  case  of  attack,  to  hold  Richmond 
until  reinforcements  could  reach  him  from  New  York.  He 
gave  up  all  thought  of  receiving  assistance  from  General  Sterling, 
his  immediate  commander,  when  he  learned  the  Americans  had 
marched  to  attack  that  officer  at  Tompkinsville,  a  few  miles 
away. 

Simcoe,  in  his  desperation,  ordered  Colonel  Christopher 
Billopp,  who  commanded  the  militia  on  Staten  Island,  to  imme- 
diately assemble  his  men  in  Richmond  for  the  defence  of  the 
place.  But  neither  orders,  entreaties,  or  the  personal  example 
of  Billopp  had  any  effect.  Not  a  man  responded.  None  of 
them  had  any  desire  to  meet  their  old  neighbors  from  New  Jer- 
sey. These  gallant  militiamen  preferred  to  lounge  around  the 
various  public  houses  to  talk  of  the  war  and  drown  their  trou- 
bles by  drinking  poor  rum,  or  by  providing  for  the  security  of 
their  cattle  and  other  effects,  which  they  were  just  now  fearful 
of  losing,  to  meeting  men  they  dreaded  in  battle.  Most  of  these 
fellows  were  refugees,  and  being  originally  from  New  Jersey, 
some  of  them  from  Elizabethtown,  they  had  every  reason  to 
evade  a  call  to  arms,  as  in  the  not  improbable  event  of  capture, 
they  knew  they  would  receive  the  short  shrift  their  perfidy  and 
treason  justly  merited.  A  guilty  conscience  needs  no  accuser. 

When  Colonel  Simcoe  learned  next  morning  that  the  Ameri- 
cans were  retreating  across  the  island,  he  started  in  pursuit  with 
two  companies  of  Hussars,  but  failed  to  overtake  them. 

Colonel  Willett,  after  a  lively  brush  with  Van  Buskirk's 
tories  at  the  Ferry,  put  them  to  flight,  burned  Isaac  Decker's 
house,  because  he  had  guided  the  British  in  their  raids  in  this 
state,  set  fire  to  a  number  of  vessels,  and  came  away  with  ten 
prisoners,  and  many  blankets  greatly  needed  by  our  men.  In- 
formed of  General  Stirling's  retrograde  movement,  he  marched 
rapidly  and  rejoined  the  column  before  it  reached  the  sound, 
which  was  crossed  at  DeHart's  ferry  at  noon. 

General  Stirling,  in  his  official  report  of  his  movements  to 
Washington,  says : 

«*  *  *  y^e  retreat  was  effected  in  good  order,  and  with 
very  little  loss.  A  party  of  the  enemy's  horse,  under  Major 
Edwards,  charged  our  rear-guard,  but  was  immediately  repulsed. 
They  had  three  men  killed.  Some  few  of  the  men  were  frost- 
bitten, and  though  we  took  all  the  pains  in  our  power  to  have 
all  those  unable  to  march  transported  in  sleighs,  yet  I  imagine 
a  very  few  have  been  left  behind. 


36  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

"*  *  *  While  the  troops  were  upon  the  Island,  a  number 
of  persons  from  this  side  (Elizabethtown)  took  advantage  of  this 
occasion  to  pass  upon  the  island  and  plunder  the  people  there  in 
the  most  shameful  and  merciless  manner.  Many  of  them  were 
stopped  on  their  return,  and  their  booty  taken  from  them.  All 
the  soldiery,  on  re-crossing  the  ice,  were  searched,  and  the  little 
plunder  they  had  taken  from  them,  and  their  names  noted,  that 
they  might  be  brought  to  punishment." 

Incensed  at  the  wanton  vandalism  and  thievery  of  evil- 
disposed  men  from  this  vicinity  who  followed  General  Stirling's 
force  to  Staten  Island,  General  Cortlandt  Skinner,  commanding 
a  brigade  of  tory  New  Jerseymen  on  the  Island,  quickly  arranged 
a  "return  visit"  for  retaliatory  purposes.  Skinner,  a  lawyer,  was 
the  last  English  attorney-general  of  New  Jersey. 

Although  most  of  the  property  carried  away  by  General 
Stirling's  camp  followers,  invariably  a  worthless  and  cowardly 
set,  had  been  promptly  returned  to  the  despoiled  Staten  Island- 
ers by  Chaplain  Caldwell,  detailed  by  Washington  to  perform 
that  duty,  they  refused  to  be  pacified,  and  smarting  under  the 
infliction,  demanded  that  the  British  authorities  whose  cause 
they  had  espoused,  should  cross  over  to  Elizabethtown  and 
obtain  full  satisfaction  for  the  outrages  committed. 

General  Washington,  who  had  given  express  orders  to 
General  Stirling  against  pillage  or  excesses  of  any  nature,  on 
learning  of  the  misbehavior  of  some  of  the  soldiers,  and  the 
thievery  of  the  worthless  vagabonds  who  went  along,  ordered  an 
investigation  of  the  matter.  When  General  Stirling  reached  this 
side  of  the  sound  on  his  return,  he  halted  his  command,  and  had 
his  officers  inspect  the  men  for  plunder.  What  was  thus  found 
was  at  once  returned  to  Staten  Island  under  a  flag  of  truce,  and 
the  names  of  the  men  implicated  in  the  robbery  noted.  Most 
of  them  were  court-martialled  and  punished  for  a  violation  of 
orders.  The  camp  followers  were  rounded  up  and  compelled 
to  disgorge  their  ill-gotten  wealth. 

This  restoration  of  the  stolen  articles,  however,  did  not  sat- 
isfy the  angry  Islanders,  and  they  importunately  demanded  that 
General  Skinner  should  invade  the  town,  and  take  bitter  revenge, 
not  only  for  the  damage  inflicted,  but  also  for  perturbing  their 
minds.  General  Skinner  lost  no  time  in  acceding  to  their 
demands,  and  having  completed  details  for  an  expedition,  se- 
lected 130  infantrymen  from  the  first  and  third  battalions  of 
his  command,  and  put  them  in  charge  of  Lieutenant  John  Van 
Buskirk,  son  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Abraham  Van  Buskirk,  a 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  37 

native  of  New  Jersey.  Some  fifty  dragoons,  commanded  by 
Lieutenant  Neal  Stewart,  were  also  detailed  for  the  expedition. 

Everything  being  in  readiness,  the  little  force,  guided  by 
the  notorious  Cornelius  Hetfield,  and  his  infamous  brothers,  Job 
and  John  Smith  Hetfield  (all  natives  of  this  town),  set  out  from 
Richmond  late  in  the  afternoon  of  January  25,  and  crossed 
Staten  Island  Sound  on  the  ice  at  Trembly's  Point,  three  miles 
below  this  town. 

The  sixty  American  soldiers  stationed  here,  to  whom  had 
been  entrusted  the  safety  of  the  place,  together  with  the  inhabi- 
tants, were  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  advance  of  the  enemy, 
little  dreaming  of  danger  or  molestation  until  awakened  at  mid- 
night by  fierce  blasts  of  bugles  and  the  heavy  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs. 

The  British  entered  the  town  from  the  south  by  two  differ- 
•ent  roads  before  their  presence  became  known  to  the  people, 
the  Hetfield  boys,  familiar  with  every  road  and  by-path  in  this 
region,  being  excellent  guides.  The  three  brothers  had  been 
banished  from  this  town  early  in  the  war  for  treasonable  prac- 
tices, and  taking  refuge  among  men  of  their  own  ilk  on  Staten 
Island,  who  gladly  welcomed  them,  they  became  active  partisans 
for  the  enemy.  These  renegades,  degenerate  sons  of  a  worthy 
and  patriotic  sire,  took  fiendish  delight  when  able  to  inflict  dam- 
age on  the  people  of  this  community,  which  they  never  lost  an 
opportunity  of  doing,  especially  if  the  transaction  was  unattended 
by  personal  danger. 

There  is  a  legend  that  while  the  British  troops  were  in  town 
on  this  fateful  night,  Cornelius  Hetfield  rode  over  to  the  home 
of  his  aged  parents  on  the  "Landing,"  and  after  rudely  awaking 
them  from  sleep,  swore  he  would  with  his  own  hands  apply  a 
torch  to  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  edifice.  His  father,  a 
highly-esteemed  citizen  and  an  elder  in  the  congregation,  impor- 
tuned the  wayward  and  head-strong  boy  to  spare  the  sacred 
building.  He  might  as  well  have  attempted  to  curb  the  wind. 
Uttering  loud  and  bitter  imprecations,  the  unfilial  son  put  spurs 
to  his  horse  and  dashed  rapidly  away.  An  hour  afterwards  a 
cloud-reaching  flame,  illumining  the  surrounding  country, 
proved  that  the  renegade  had  fulfilled  his  impious  threat. 

The  church  building,  also  used  for  many  years  as  a  town 
meeting-house,  was  built  in  the  year  1665.  It  was  a  frame  struc- 
ture 36  feet  wide  and  46  feet  long.  The  grounds  attached  em- 
braced about  eight  acres,  and  extended  west  to  the  river,  then 
called  "Mill  Creek."  The  land  was  originally  donated  to  the 


J8  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES   OF   THE 

church  trustees  by  the  first  purchasers  and  their  "Associates," 
but  as  the  original  deed  could  not  be  found  in  1719,  the  free- 
holders "allowed"  the  grounds  to  the  church  trustees  and  their 
heirs  and  successors. 

Isaac  Decker,  whose  house  at  the  ferry  at  Richmond,  had 
been  burned  on  the  15th  by  Colonel  Willett's  men,  who  had  been 
fired  upon  from  its  windows,  still  smarting  under  the  injury  done 
him,  applied  a  torch  to  the  court  house  building  adjoining  the 
church,  and  this,  too,  was  entirely  consumed. 

The  lurid  flames  from  the  fiercely  burning  structures  were 
seen  by  our  soldiers  in  Newark  and  at  other  points,  and  the 
long  roll  and  other  signals  of  danger  sounded.  It  was  a  wierd 
spectacle  the  people  of  this  town  witnessed  that  cold  winter's 
night  when  they  saw  flames  consuming  structures  to  which  they 
were  devotedly  attached,  and  jubilant  and  excited  red-coated  sol- 
diers giving  vent  to  their  joy  at  the  destruction  of  cherished 
land-marks,  which  the  patriots  were  unable  to  prevent. 

The  two  buildings  consumed  were  constructed  of  wood,  and 
neither  had  ever  been  beautified  by  artificial  means.  No  union 
painter's  brush  had  sought  their  ornamentation.  They  had 
weathered  storm  and  sunshine  for  more  than  a  century's  time, 
and  were  always  objects  of  veneration  to  our  people.  The 
church  building  was  especially  dear,  hallowed  as  it  was  by 
recollections  of  worship  therein  by  Pilgrim  fathers,  and  the  reli- 
gious instruction  given  by  Dickenson,  Spen-:er,  Whitefield  and 
Caldwell,  the  most  noted  preachers  then  in  this  country. 

The  court  house,  one  of  the  oldest  buildings  in  town,  was 
used  in  the  early  part  of  the  war  for  the  confinement  of  prisoners 
of  war,  Elizabethtown  having  been  designated  as  a  general  depot 
of  exchange.  It  was  here  that  the  survivors  of  Benedict 
Arnold's  ill-fated  expedition  to  Canada  were  brought  for  ex- 
change. Colonel  Ethan  Allen,  for  a  time,  had  charge  of  the 
British  prisoners  confined  here. 

When  the  patriot  father  of  the  miscreant  Cornelius  Hetfield 
visited  the  ruins  on  the  following  day  his  heart  bled  within  him 
at  his  undutiful  son's  sacriligious  act.  As  there  was  no  other 
building  in  town  capable  of  accommodating  an  audience,  the 
elder  Hetfield  tendered  the  use  of  his  large  frame  building  known 
as  the  "Red  Store  House,"  located  on  the  east  side  of  Cherry 
street,  near  Rahway  Avenue,  then  the  most  populous  and  impor- 
tant section  of  the  town,  and  the  kind  offer  being  accepted  by  the 
congregation,  the  structure  was  remodelled,  provided  with  seats., 
and  for  several  years  afterwards  used  as  a  meeting  house. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  39 

The  sudden  and  totally  unlooked-for  descent  of  the  enemy 
caused  consternation,  not  only  among  the  American  soldiers, 
but  among  all  the  inhabitants  who  had  been  awakened  by  bugle 
blasts,  the  hoarse  voices  of  the  British  soldiery,  and  the  dis- 
charge of  fire-arms.  A  dozen  soldiers  on  guard  at  the  Cross- 
Roads  (now  Union  Square)  were  the  only  ones  who  escaped. 
They  fled  on  hearing  the  firing  on  Cherry  Street,  where  the  British 
first  surprised  the  American  guards,  and  gained  our  lines  at 
Newark. 

The  British  cavalry  crossed  Mill  Creek,  where  the  stone 
bridge  stands  on  South  Broad  Street,  and  dashed  rapidly  up 
Broad  Street,  the  advance  halting  at  Jersey  Street.  At  that 
period  there  were  but  half  a  dozen  houses  on  Broad  Street. 
The  loud  warning  the  Britons  gave  to  the  people  to  remain  within 
doors  was  religiously  observed,  and  no  citizen  had  the  temerity 
to  show  himself  out  of  doors  until  after  daylight,  and  not  then 
unless  morally  certain  the  enemy  had  withdrawn. 

The  British  having  satisfied  themselves  with  plunder  from 
private  dwellings,  and  satisfied  with  the  destruction  wrought,  as 
well  as  the  easy  capture  of  five  commissioned  officers  and  some 
fifty  men  of  a  Maryland  regiment,  retreated  down  what  is  now 
Elizabeth  Avenue  and  First  Avenue,  to  the  sound  at  DeHart's 
Point.  As  a  parting  blow  at  the  old  town,  the  departing  enemy 
set  fire  to  De  Hart's  ferry  house,  the  bright  light  from  which 
illumined  their  pathway  across  the  sound. 

Washington,  justly  incensed.,  not  only  at  the  destruction  of 
public  and  private  property,  but  at  the  non-watchfulness  and 
cowardice  of  the  Maryland  troops  sent  here  to  protect  the  town, 
classified  the  event  as  a  "misfortune  and  disgrace,"  and  two  days 
afterward  ordered  General  Arthur  St.  Clair,  who  was  at  the 
Short  Hills,  to  come  down  here  and  investigate  the  causes  of  the 
disaster,  and  take  command  of  all  the  forces  from  Paulus  Hook 
(now  Jersey  City)  to  Perth  Amboy. 

The  winter  of  1779-80  was  the  severest  on  record.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  snow  from  the  middle  of  November  to 
the  first  of  April.  January  3,  1780,  snow  fell  to  a  depth  of  from 
four  to  six  feet,  and  all  the  waters  about  here  were  frozen  till 
the  first  of  March.  The  season  opened  late,  not  a  blade  of  green 
grass  being  observable  hereabouts  as  late  as  the  18th  of  May. 


40  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 


DESPERATE  ATTEMPT  TO  CAPTURE  GOVERNOR. 

IN  "the  days  that  tried  men's  souls,"  New  Jersey  had  no  firmer 
patriot  or  abler  or  wiser  counselor  than  Governor  Living- 
ston.    No  Jerseyman,  during  the  revolution,  took  so  prom- 
inent a  part  in  public  affairs.    No  man  in  the  land  did  more  for 
the  cause  of  American  liberty — none  made  greater  sacrifices  for 
the  public  weal.     No  other  Jerseyman  was  so  bitterly  hated  by 
the  British  and  tories,  and  none  was  more  cordially  loved  and 
trusted  by  every  friend  of  Freedom. 

Time  and  again  did  the  British  and  renegades  on  Staten 
Island  descend  upon  this  town,  both  by  night  and  day,  to  effect 
the  capture  of  the  governor,  but  the  most  serious  attempt  in 
this  direction  was  made  on  the  night  of  February  24,  1779. 
when  the  33d  and  42d  Regiments,  with  some  light  guards,  num- 
bering in  all  over  2,000  trained  troops,  under  command  of  Lieut.- 
Colonel  Sterling  (afterward  general,  who  was  killed  a  year  later 
at  Union  Square  by  an  American  sharpshooter),  embarked  on 
Long  Island,  and  a  few  hours  afterwards  landed  without  dis- 
covery near  Crane's  Ferry,  on  Newark  Bay,  a  mile  north  of  the 
present  Singer  factory. 

The  British  force  was  guided  by  Cornelius  Hetfield,  Jr.,  and 
his  brother,  John  Smith  Hetfield,  Elizabethtown  boys,  who,  three 
years  previous,  had  been  banished  from  this  place,  owing  to  their 
treasonable  sentiments  and  opposition  to  the  patriot  cause. 

After  disembarking,  long  before  daylight,  the  42d  Regiment, 
headed  by  Colonel  Sterling,  marched  rapidly  across  the  meadows 
by  paths  thoroughly  known  to  the  Hetfield  boys,  and  soon  gained 
the  upland  near  the  present  city  almshouse  (then  known  as 
Woodruff's  Farms).  Reaching  this  point,  the  British  com- 
mander was  surprised  to  learn  of  the  non-arrival  of  the  33d  Regi- 
ment and  the  guards,  who  had  failed  to  follow  in  the  darkness 
owing  to  a  misunderstanding  of  orders. 

Colonel  Sterling  reached  the  town  as  the  Americans  departed, 
him  forthwith,  but  the  colonel  of  the  33d  refused  to  recognize 
the  order  given  verbally  by  a  man  he  did  not  know,  and  who 
could  not  show  any  credentials.  This  blunder  caused  several 
hours'  delay,  and  imperilled  the  success  of  the  expedition,  as  it 
afforded  time  for  the  American  militiamen  to  rally,  which  they 
very  promptly  did  as  usual. 

Colonel  Aaron  Ogden,  a  native  of  this  town,  first  to  learn 
of  the  enemy's  landing  and  of  its  advance,  sent  word  to  General 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  41 

Maxwell,  in  command  of  a  small  force  at  the  barracks  on  Cherry 
.Street,  and  that  gallant  soldier  at  once  assembled  his  troops, 
alarmed  the  town,  and  retreated  towards  Galloping  Hill,  many 
citizens  hurriedly  following,  taking  with  them  in  their  hasty  flight 
such  personal  and  household  effects  as  they  could  carry. 

Colonel  Stirling  reached  the  town  as  the  Americans  departed 
and  quickly  seizing  all  roads  leading  out,  stationed  guards  to 
prevent  surprise.  This  accomplished  the  British  commander  dis- 
patched a  force,  guided  by  Cornelius  Hetfield,  to  "Liberty  Hall," 
to  capture  Governor  Livingston. 

Fortunately  the  governor  was  at  the  home  of  a  friend  near 
Springfield,  and  thus  escaped.  The  Britons,  after  quietly  sur- 
rounding the  mansion,  forcibly  entered,  and  were  surprised  to 
find  themselves  confronted  by  Miss  Kate  Livingston,  the  gov- 
ernor's daughter,  a  brave  and  patriotic  girl,  who  roundly  de- 
nounced the  ruthless  invaders  of  her  home  for  their  untimely 
visit. 

Miss  Livingston,  inured  to  war  and  without  fear  in  her 
soul,  burning  with  indignation,  ordered  the  raiders  to  leave  the 
mansion,  and  some,  very  much  ashamed  of  themselves,  were  on 
the  point  of  complying,  when  the  British  officer  in  command 
gave  polite  assurance  to  the  brave  girl  that  no  harm  should  befall 
her,  and  directed  his  men  to  make  a  search  of  the  premises  for  the 
governor. 

This  proving  a  fruitless  errand,  the  commandant  demanded 
that  Miss  Livingston  reveal  the  depository  of  the  state's  papers. 
She  parleyed  with  the  officer  as  long  as  possible  to  gain  time 
for  our  troops  to  pull  themselves  together  and  reach  town,  and 
only  when  her  art  at  subterfuge  failed,  did  she  consent  to  lead 
the  way  to  an  apartment  in  which  she  happened  to  remember, 
was  stored  some  worthless  documents.  A  large  trunk,  filled 
with  important  looking  papers,  quickly  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  raiders,  and  was  removed  in  a  hurry.  The  soldiers  dis- 
played great  glee  over  what  they  considered  a  valuable  find,  and 
departing,  soon  after  joined  Colonel  Sterling  in  the  heart  of  the 
town. 

While  awaiting  the  return  of  the  detachment  from  the  gov- 
ernor's home,  Colonel  Sterling  had  kept  his  men  busy  collecting 
horses  and  cattle,  a  considerable  number  of  which  were  gathered. 
When  the  British  commandant  learned  that  Governor  Living- 
ston had  not  been  captured,  he  gave  vent  to  his  rage  by  ordering 
the  burning  of  the  state  barracks  on  Cherry  Street,  and  the  par- 
sonage of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  close  by,  and  to  make 


42  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF   THE 

his  visit  more  memorable  he  directed  his  men  to  fire  the  public 
school  academy,  standing  on  Broad  Street,  where  the  First 
Church  lecture  room  is  now  located.  One  or  two  other  struc- 
tures were  also  fired. 

Shortly  after  daylight  General  Maxwell,  who  had  succeeded 
in  getting  reinforcements  from  Rahway  and  Newark,  having 
meantime  ascertained  the  position  and  strength  of  the  enemy, 
advanced  on  the  town  from  the  northwest,  first  engaging  the 
British  posted  at  the  river  on  what  is  now  West  Jersey  Street. 
The  enemy  opened  a  spirited  musketry  fire,  but  gave  way  rapidly 
when  the  Americans  opened  with  two  light  field  pieces.  They 
speedily  joined  Colonel  Sterling  on  Broad  Street,  where  he  stood 
witnessing  the  burning  of  the  Academy.  Quickly  recalling  his 
different  detachments,  Sterling,  sending  ahead  the  cattle  his  men 
had  stolen,  commenced  his  retreat  down  Elizabeth  Avenue,  his 
rear  covered  by  the  light  guards. 

General  Maxwell,  now  feeling  greatly  encouraged,  and  al- 
most sure  of  capturing  the  British  force,  followed  in  close  pur- 
suit, using  his  two  field  pieces  with  considerable  effect  on  the 
fleeing  and  disheartened  foe.  Before  the  British  reached  New 
Point  Road  they  had  become  so  frightened  that  they  were  glad  to 
abandon  the  horses  and  cows,  all  of  which  were  recaptured  and 
restored  to  their  joyous  owners. 

The  immediate  pursuit  of  the  enemy  was  entrusted  to  three 
of  the  best  officers  in  the  American  army — Colonels  Dayton, 
Ogden  and  Barber — all  natives  of  this  town.  These  gallant 
spirits  pursued  the  British  relentlessly,  giving  them  no  time  to 
stop  and  fight,  even  if  they  desired  that  sort  of  relaxation.  It 
was  fight  by  our  farmer  boys  all  the  way  to  the  water.  While 
the  intrepid  Ogden,  who  had  the  advance,  was  making  a  recon- 
noissance,  he  was  imprudently  led  into  an  ambuscade,  and  came 
within  an  ace  of  losing  his  life.  Suddenly  confronted  by  four  or 
five  British  infantrymen,  who  had  secreted  themselves  in  the 
dense  brush  lining  the  narrow  roadway,  he  attempted  to  cut  his 
way  out,  and  while  doing  so  a  Briton  thrust  his  bayonet  through 
the  right  side  of  his  body.  Ogden's  men,  coming  up,  opened  fire 
on  the  Britons,  some  of  whom  were  killed.  Colonel  Ogden,  with 
the  rusty  weapon  still  in  his  body,  was  taken  to  the  building  now 
used  as  the  "Old  Ladies'  Home"  on  East  Jersey  Street,  where 
it  was  finally  removed  through  the  efforts  of  several  surgeons 
who  had  been  summoned.  Colonel  Ogden  recovered  from  the 
ghastly  wound,  although  he  was  laid  up  for  a  long  time,  and 
some  years  afterwards  was  chosen  governor  of  our  state. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.       .  43 

The  retreat  of  the  British  down  New  Point  Road  was  pre- 
cipitous owing  to  the  closeness  of  the  pursuit  by  our  enraged 
militiamen.  The  enemy's  officers  made  repeated  attempts  to 
rally  their  men,  but  demoralization  having  superceded  discipline, 
their  flight  continued.  At  one  spot  our  men  made  a  gallant 
charge,  and  got  so  close  to  the  British  that  many  of  them,  in 
their  fright,  left  the  narrow  roadway,  and  fleeing  across  the 
meadows,  became  mired  in  the  swampy  land. 

When  the  discomfited  foe  at  length  reached  the  place  of  em- 
barkation, the  men  experienced  great  difficulty  in  getting  to  the 
boats,  which  lay  anchored  some  distance  out  in  Newark  Bay, 
owing  to  the  shallowness  of  the  water,  and  had  not  the  British 
been  protected  by  several  sloops  of  war,  which  opened  fire  upon 
the  enthusiastic  Americans,  the  entire  force  would  undoubtedly 
have  been  captured. 

As  it  was  the  enemy  had  ten  killed,  forty  wounded,  and 
twenty-one  captured. 

The  Americans  lost  one  killed  and  five  wounded — one  of  the 
latter  being  Lieutenant  Rencastle. 

BATTLE  OF  CONNECTICUT  FARMS. 

ELIZABETHTOWN,  during  the  winter  of  1779-80,  guarded 
only  from  time  to  time  by  small  detachments  of  Conti- 
nentals and  militia,  was  subjected  to  frequent  raids  by 
renegades  from  this  section,  who,  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war, 
had  taken  refuge  on  Staten  Island,  a  settlement  notoriously  hos- 
tile to  the  American  cause. 

Washington,  in  retreating  from  New  York,  made  his  head- 
quarters at  Morristown,  echelonging  his  small  and  ill-provided 
army  along  the  foot  hills,  where  his  men  suffered  incredible  hard- 
ships, not  only  from  exposure  to  the  long  period  of  intense  cold 
weather,  but  from  the  lack  of  food,  difficult  of  procurement  on 
account  of  the  great  depth  of  snow  that  covered  the  earth. 

On  the  night  of  January  25,  1780,  a  British  force  of  infantry 
and  cavalry,  numbering  five  hundred  men,  crossed  Staten  Island 
sound  on  the  ice,  at  Trembley's  Point,  and  succeeded  in  enter- 
ing the  town  by  two  different  roads,  before  the  small  guard  of 
Americans,  supposed  to  be  on  duty,  was  aware  of  its  advance. 
The  raid  was  a  complete  surprise.  The  British  dragoons  in 
their  dash,  killed  and  wounded  several  Americans,  and  captured 
the  others,  most  of  whom  were  in  bed.  Among  the  prisoners 


44  HISTORICAL   SKETCHES   OF   THE 

taken  were  Major  Eccles,  of  the  Fifth  Maryland  Regiment,  and 
a  Virginia  colonel. 

On  retiring  the  elated  enemy  set  fire  to  the  court  house  and 
the  First  Presbyterian  Church  adjoining.  Both  structures  being 
of  wood,  were  rapidly  consumed.  The  court  house  and  grounds 
attached  had  been  used  during  the  war  as  a  place  of  confinement 
for  prisoners  of  war. 

General  Washington,  highly  incensed  at  the  conduct  of  the 
Southern  troops  thus  surprised  and  captured,  ordered  an  investi- 
gation of  "the  late  misfortune  and  disgrace  at  Elizabethtown," 
:as  he  classified  the  event. 

Knyphausen,  in  command  of  the  British  forces  in  and  about 
New  York,  was  busily  engaged  all  the  spring  in  preparing  for  a 
•formidable  invasion  of  this  state.  He  boasted  to  the  English 
governor  (Robertson)  of  New  York,  that  when  the  weather  con- 
ditions permitted  he  would  cross  over  to  New  Jersey  and  cap- 
ture or  expel  from  its  soil  the  rebel  army,  which  he  knew  to  be 
reduced  not  only  in  numbers,  but  to  dire  extremity.  With  the 
great  power  of  the  British  government  behind  him,  granting 
his  every  wish,  Knyphausen  was  .given  carte  blanche  in  selecting 
a  force  which  he  was  confident  would  prove  itself  equal  to  any 
emergency.  The  first  commands  that  had  been  brought  to  this 
country  were  chosen — among  them  a  squadron  of  dragoons, 
known  as  the  "Queen's  Rangers,"  and  the  famous  Coldstream 
Guards,  which  some  years  afterwards  made  themselves  immortal 
T)y  desperate  fighting  at  Waterloo. 

Knyphausen,  determined  to  leave  nothing  undone  to  ensure 
the  success  of  the  expedition  on  which  he  had  centered  every 
hope,  selected  as  commanders  of  his  brigades  General  Edward 
Mathew,  General  Sterling  and  General  Tryon,  whom  he  con- 
sidered his  ablest  subordinates.  To  them  was  entrusted  the 
command  of  the  three  divisions,  into  which  he  divided  his  force 
of  between  6,000  and  7,000  men.  To  Sterling,  the  youngest  and 
most  active  and  promising  general,  he  confided  the  advance 
column. 

On  the  first  of  June  this  chosen  corps,  which  had  rendez- 
voused in  Battery  Park  some  days  before,  began  to  embark  on 
vessels  assembled  off  the  Battery  for  that  purpose,  and  a  day  or 
two  afterwards  the  ships  sailed  for  Staten  Island,  landing  the 
troops  on  the  eastern  shore,  from  which  point  they  leisurely 
marched  across  the  island  to  the  high  land  opposite  what  is  now 
Elizabeth  Avenue,  where,  going  into  camp,  they  remained  until 
the  night  of  June  6,  when  the  column  took  up  its  line  of  march 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  45* 

over  the  intervening  salt  meadows  and  crossed  the  sound  on  a 
pontoon  bridge  previously  laid. 

Colonel  Elias  Dayton,  who  had  been  stationed  here  for  some 
time  with  his  Third  New  Jersey  Regiment,  occupying  the  bar- 
racks on  Cherry  Street,  had  witnessed  the  arrival  of  the  redcoats 
on  the  western  slope  of  Staten  Island,  and  sent  intelligence  to- 
Washington,  who  was  still  at  Morristown.  Determined  to  resist 
the  British  advance  as  long  as  possible,  on  the  night  of  the  sixth 
he  posted  a  small  force  of  sharpshooters  at  the  junction  of  Old 
and  New  Point  Roads  (now  Union  Square),  with  instructions 
to  lie  in  ambush  and  fire  upon  the  British  advance  when  near 
enough  to  make  their  shots  effective.  The  gallant  and  watchful 
colonel  told  his  men  to  retreat  when  such  a  step  became  neces- 
sary, and  fall  back  to  Broad  Street,  where  he  would  await  them. 

It  was  only  when  Aurora  began  gilding  the  morn  on  the 
fateful  seventh  of  June  that  this  band,  impatient  during  the  long 
night  and  longing  for  the  day,  first  heard  the  beating  of  horses' 
hoofs  and  the  rattle  of  accoutrements,  and  shortly  after  saw  a 
dark  mass  advancing  up  Old  Point  Road  (now  First  Avenue). 
With  fast-beating  hearts  and  heavy  flint-lock  muskets  well 
primed,  the  American  piquet,  secreted  in  the  underbrush,  anxious- 
ly bided  the  time  for  action.  These  brave  farmer  boy  soldiers 
fully  realized  the  desperate  undertaking  in  which  they  had  cheer- 
fully engaged,  and  were  cognizant  of  the  futility  of  any  act  which 
they  felt  competent  of  performing,  but,  alive  to  the  importance 
of  obeying  orders,  and  intent  on  dealing  a  blow,  however  ineffec- 
tive, to  the  insolent  invader  of  their  homes,  they  gladly  perilled 
their  lives  in  thus  boldly  attacking  an  army  of  trained  warriors. 

Unconscious  of  danger,  the  British  general — Sterling — rode 
proudly  in  the  van,  his  bright  sword  and  golden  helmet  glittering 
in  the  early  sunlight.  No  thought  of  a  lingering  and  painful 
death  disturbed  the  serenity  of  his  mind — no  shadow  of  fear 
crossed  his  handsome  face,  as,  mounted  upon  a  prancing  and 
gaily-caparisoned  steed,  he  made  his  way  along  the  quiet  road, 
burdened  by  deathlike  stillness. 

"Fire!"  rang  out  the  clarion-like  voice  of  Ensign  Moses 
Ogden,  an  Elizabethtown  boy  of  nineteen  years,  and  the  next 
instant,  from  the  brazen  muzzles  of  thirteen  muskets  poured 
forth  a  sheet  of  flame  and  death-dealing  missiles  into  the  serried 
ranks  of  the  invading  host,  the  proud  and  haughty  general — 
Sterling — being  unhorsed  by  a  ghastly  wound  in  his  right  thigh. 
(He  was  removed  to  the  house  now  occupied  by  the  Old  Womens' 
Home  on  East  Jersey  Street,  and  subsequently  conveyed  to  New 
York,  where  he  died  one  year  later). 


46  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES   OF    THE 

What  was  regarded  as  the  killing  of  their  general,  together 
with  the  wounding  of  several  horsemen,  threw  the  dragoons  into 
a  state  of  panic,  and  much  confusion  resulted.  This  afforded 
time  for  the  Americans  to  reload  and  fire  again,  which  they  lost 
no  time  in  doing,  then  fled  up  what  is  now  Elizabeth  Avenue  to 
Broad  Street,  where  Colonel  Dayton,  who  had  impatiently  awaited 
them,  complimented  Ensign  Ogden  and  his  comrades  upon  their 
gallant  behavior  and  the  efficiency  of  their  effort.  Young  Ogden 
was  heartily  greeted  by  the  regiment,  and  lustily  cheered  when 
Colonel  Dayton  announced  what  he  had  done.  Sad  to  relate, 
before  the  sun  went  down  behind  our  western  hills  that  day,  the 
heroic  ensign  sealed  his  devotion  to  his  country  and  the  cause 
of  liberty  with  his  life's  blood,  being  instantly  killed  in  the  battle 
at  Connecticut  Farms  (now  Union)  late  in  the  afternoon,  a  ball 
passing  through  his  intrepid  heart. 

Colonel  Dayton,  with  a  portion  of  his  regiment,  made  a 
stand  at  Broad  Street  and  Elizabeth  Avenue,  having  previously 
posted  four  companies  at  Broad  and  Jersey  Streets  to  guard  and 
protect  his  retreat.  He  feared  the  enemy  might  attempt  a  flank- 
ing movement  by  way  of  East  Jersey  Street,  but  the  British  com- 
mander kept  his  column  intact,  and  made  no  diversions. 

The  British  column,  having  reformed  after  the  unlooked-for 
attack  at  Union  Square,  resumed  its  advance  up  Water  Street 
the  dragoons  having  been  superceded  in  the  task  of  leading,  by 
the  Coldstream  Guards,  who  moved  forward  with  circumspection 

When  Colonel  Dayton  found  that  British  infantry  had  been 
assigned  to  lead  the  column,  he  delegated  a  number  of  sharp- 
shooters to  cover  his  retreat,  with  instructions  to  annoy  the 
advancing  host  and  retard  its  advance  as  long  as  possible.  The 
riflemen  detailed  for  this  hazardous  duty,  while  slowly  and  sul- 
lenly retiring,  fired  as  opportunity  offered  from  every  available 
covert — trees  along  the  highways  affording  them  excellent  pro- 
tection. It  was  from  this  vantage  that  many  Britons  reddened 
our  soil  with  their  blood  on  this  momentous  day.  This  resistance 
while  delaying  the  march  of  the  enemy,  gave  time  to  rally  the 
militiamen  in  this  section,  who  were  temporarily  at  home  attend- 
ing affairs  on  their  farms,  and  it  aided  Washington  in  getting 
his  army  together  to  march  south  to  meet  the  invading  host.  But 
it  was  nearly  dark  when  Washington  reached  the  Short  Hills 
with  the  main  body  of  his  force,  and  learning  of  the  repulse  of 
the  enemy  at  Connecticut  Farms  and  the  bridge  near  Springfield 
he  went  into  camp  to  prepare  for  what  he  considered  might  be 
an  issue  on  the  following  day. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  47 

Colonel  Dayton  retired  from  Elizabethtown  by  way  of  West 
Jersey  Street  and  the  Galloping  Hill  Road,  northwesterly  to  Con- 
necticut Farms,  his  rear  guard  contesting  every  foot  of  the  way. 
At  Galloping  Hill  there  was  a  spirited  fight,  but  the  overpowering 
numbers  of  the  enemy  speedily  drove  the  Americans  from  the 
untenable  position,  and  the  retreat  was  continued  to  the  West 
branch  of  the  Elizabethtown  River,  where  two  companies  of 
Dayton's  regiment,  having  chosen  an  admirable  position,  wel- 
comed a  score  and  more  of  the  enemy  to  hospitable  graves. 

Meantime  General  Maxwell,  to  whose  brigade  Colonel  Day- 
ton's regiment  belonged,  had  deployed  his  command  in  a  semi- 
circle on  the  highest  ground  northeast  of  the  church,  his  left 
flank  resting  on  the  Vauxhall  Road,  near  what  is  now  "Ye  old 
Meeker  Inn,"  his  extreme  right  being  at  the  junction  of  the  two 
roads  leading  north  and  west.  A  few  hundred  feet  from  this 
point  stood  a  small  frame  house,  in  which  lived  in  fancied  security 
the  patriot  wife  of  Chaplain  Caldwell  of  Dayton's  regiment. 
Mrs.  Caldwell,  who  had  no  fear  in  her  soul,  after  serving  a 
British  soldier  with  refreshments,  was  cruelly  murdered  by  the 
fiend  who  had  enjoyed  her  hospitality. 

General  Maxwell  had  taken  the  position  above  described,  in 
order  to  guard  the  two  roads  leading  north  to  Springfield,  and 
thus  prevent  the  enemy  from  separating  his  force  from  Wash- 
ington. 

The  fight  at  the  branch  southeast  of  the  church  was  well- 
contested,  and  continued  for  three  long  hours,  when  the  Ameri- 
cans, threatened  by  a  flank  movement,  gave  way,  and  joined 
General  Maxwell  on  the  hill,  half  mile  away.  The  entire  Ameri- 
can force  present  numbered  less  than  fifteen  hundred  men,  and 
being  without  artillery,  and  no  reinforcements  in  sight,  General 
Maxwell  began  his  retreat  towards  Springfield,  harassing  the 
enemy  as  opportunity  presented  itself. 

But  it  was  at  the  bridge  over  the  Rahway  River,  which 
crosses  Morris  Avenue,  at  the  foot  of  Prospect  Hill,  half  a  mile 
from  Springfield,  that  the  severest  fighting  of  the  day  took  place 
Although  the  British  brought  all  their  artillery  into  requisition 
and  maintained  a  steady  fire  during  the  latter  part  of  the  after- 
noon, the  Americans  withstood  the  bombardment  with  heroic  gal- 
lantry, and  by  a  withering  fire  from  muskets  and  rifles,  and  a  small 
iron  field  piece,  succeeded  in  blocking  the  further  advance  of  a 
powerful  foe. 

Finding  his  efforts  balked,  and  learning  just  before  night- 
fall that  Washington,  with  a  large  force,  was  hurriedly  advanc- 


48  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES   OF   THE 

ing,  Knyphausen  sounded  a  cessation  of  hostilities,  and  reforming; 
his  dispirited  men  under  cover  of  darkness,  which  now  enshrouded 
the  earth,  commenced  a  hasty  retrograde  movement. 

When  the  baffled  foe  reached  the  Farms  village  on  their 
return,  they  plundered  every  dwelling,  a  dozen  or  so  in  number, 
and  fired  the  structures  after  every  portable  article  had  been 
removed  therefrom.  The  Presbyterian  Church  building,  a  frame 
structure,  did  not  escape  the  incendiary's  torch,  and  was  totally 
destroyed.  It  is  recorded  that  Governor  Robertson,  of  New 
York,  who  accompanied  Knyphausen  on  this  expedition,  in  the 
expectancy  of  witnessing  the  capture  of  General  Washington 
participated  in  the  hellish  work,  and  profited  by  a  share  of  the 
ill-gotten  plunder. 

Amid  Stygian  darkness,  relieved  only  by  vivid  flashes  of 
lightning  and  burning  buildings  along  the  road,  Knyphausen 
"the  drowsy  tyrant  by  his  minions  led,"  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  lower  part  of  Elizabethtown  at  daybreak  next  morning — his 
men  drenched  to  the  skin,  covered  with  mud,  exhausted,  depressed 
in  spirits,  and  in  a  highly  demoralized  state.  The  discomfited 
British  evidently  felt  they  had  justly  incurred  God's  wrath  by 
their  crimes,  and  regarded  the  pouring  rain,  the  lightning's  flashes 
and  the  loud-pealing  thunder  as  admonitions  from  on  high.  The 
lightning  on  this  occasion  is  described  by  a  German  officer  present 
as  "having  frightened  the  horses"  and  "deprived  the  soldiers  of 
sight  for  a  time." 

Learning  of  the  close  pursuit  by  the  Americans,  who,  despite 
the  raging  storm,  were  in  an  exhilarating  mood  over  their  victory. 
Knyphausen  posted  a  battalion  of  "Yagers,"  armed  with  heavy 
rifles,  in  a  grove  on  Water  Street  (near  what  is  now  Reid 
Street),  supporting  them  with  the  22d  Regiment,  a  crack  organi- 
zation, and  a  battery  of  light  artillery,  at  the  junction  of  Old  and 
New  Point  Roads,  now  Union  Square.  A  brigade  of  Hessians, 
including  the  famous  Coldstream  Guards,  and  a  squadron  of 
heavy  dragoons,  went  into  bivouac  on  a  knoll  below  Rickett's 
farm,  near  what  is  now  Liberty  Square  at  Third  Street,  with  a 
view  of  lending  support  in  case  of  attack.  With  these  disposi- 
tions, considered  ample,  the  British  commander  deployed  the 
remainder  of  his  army  in  a  northeasterly  direction,  and  almost 
parallel  with  the  sound,  the  line  being  extended  as  far  as  Crane's 
Ferry  (near  the  location  of  the  Singer  factory).  A  considerable 
body  of  dragoons  was  posted  on  the  extreme  right  flank,  guarding 
the  New  Point  Road.  The  British,  in  this  position,  possessed 
superior  advantages,  enjoying,  as  they  did,  admirable  cover  in 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  49 

the  old  earthworks  constructed  early  in  the  war  by  the  Ameri- 
cans, and  having  their  right  flank  further  guarded  by  an  impene- 
trable marsh  on  the  salt  meadows,  while  its  extreme  left  was 
efficiently  protected  by  British  gunboats  on  the  sound  just  above 
the  mouth  of  the  Elizabeth  River. 

General  Hand,  in  command  of  a  brigade  of  the  American 
army,  was  stationed  near  Springfield,  guarding  the  approaches 
to  the  Short  Hills.  Unable  to  reach  the  "Farms"  in  time  to 
participate  in  the  glorious  battle  of  the  previous  day,  he  and  his 
men  burned  for  an  opportunity  to  pursue  and  punish  the  dastard 
foe.  General  (Lord)  Stirling,  his  immediate  commander,  having 
been  informed  that  the  enemy,  in  a  demoralized  condition,  had 
recrossed  the  sound  to  Staten  Island,  leaving  but  a  small  force  on 
this  side,  acceded  to  General  Hand's  importunacy,  and  directed 
him  to  proceed  with  his  brigade  of  riflemen  and  a  battalion  of 
militiamen  to  Elizabethtown,  and  "bring  up  those  fellows  at  the 
point." 

Despite  the  rain,  which  fell  in  torrents,  the  gallant  Americans 
received  the  order  with  cheers  which  awoke  echoes  among  the 
grand  old  hills,  and  promptly  commenced  the  march  to  the  town, 
over  rough  and  heavy  roads,  making  the  task  difficult  and  fatigu- 
ing, yet  not  a  murmur  was  heard  in  that  loyal  band.  Every  man 
was  eager  to  meet  a  foe  capable  of  any  enormity,  even  to  the 
cold-blooded  murder  of  defenceless  women,  and  with  the  killing 
of  Mrs.  Caldwell  uppermost  in  their  minds,  the  heroic  Continen- 
tals pressed  forward  to  avenge  that  patriot  woman's  death. 

And  thus  ingloriously  ended  Knyphausen's  much-vaunted 
and  first  attempt  to  penetrate  New  Jersey,  by  which  he  had  fondly 
hoped  to  reach  the  American  lines  at  Morristown,  and  capture  or 
destroy  the  small  force  encamped  there.  But  the  haughty  Hes- 
sian hireling,  so  confident  in  the  morning  of  destroying  the  patriot 
army,  finding  himself  thwarted  in  his  design  by  a  handful  of 
American  farmer  boys,  was  compelled  to  beat  a  disastrous  retreat 
under  cover  of  Cimmerian  darkness,  in  the  midst  of  a  drenching 
rain-storm,  accompanied  by  fearful  lightning  and  thunder,  tc 
retrace  his  wretched  and  weary  way  to  the  point  from  which 
eighteen  hours  before,  he  had  started  under  the  most  auspicious 
circumstances,  with  all  the  pomp  and  panoply  of  war. 


50  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 


BATTLE  OF  ELIZABETHTOWN. 

GENERAL  HAND  entered  Elizabethtown  at  about  seven 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  eighth  by  two  different 
roads — his  columns  forming  a  junction  at  the  corner  of 
Broad  and  Water  Streets,  where  a  small  outpost  piquet  of  the 
enemy  was  surprised  and  captured  by  a  dash  of  his  ill-mounted 
troopers  who  had  the  advance. 

Ascertaining  from  citizens  and  scouts  that  a  strong  force  of 
the  enemy  was  entrenched  at  the  Cross  Roads  (Union  Square). 
General  Hand  divided  his  command  into  three  separate  columns 
and  resumed  his  march  towards  the  "Point,"  proceeding  cau- 
tiously down  Water  Street.  Almost  absolute  silence  prevailed — 
nothing  being  heard  save  the  irregular  tread  of  the  men.  When 
near  the  tannery  of  that  staunch  patriot,  Timothy  Ogden,  a  lineal 
descendant  of  John  Ogden,  one  of  the  most  influential  founders 
of  this  town,  the  head  of  column,  received  a  volley  from  the 
"Yagers,"  lying  in  ambush  in  a  grove  at  what  is  now  Elizabeth 
Avenue  and  Reid  Street,  which  caused  some  confusion  among 
the  Continentals.  While  General  Hand  was  making  dispositions 
to  resist  attack,  the  "Yagers"  took  to  their  heels,  fleeing  across 
the  fields  in  the  direction  of  the  Cross  Roads — shots  from  the 
Americans  adding  to  their  terror  and  greatly  accelerating  their 
flight.  It  afforded  merriment  to  the  farmer  boys  to  witness  the 
celerity  with  which  the  trained  troops  of  Britain  ran  after  deliver- 
ing a  volley,  which,  happily,  proved  harmless. 

A  careful  reconnoissance  satisfied  General  Hand  that  the 
British  occupied  a  strong  position  at  the  Cross  Roads,  and  that 
the  utmost  caution  on  his  part  would  be  necessary  to  avoid  disas- 
ter. He  accordingly  despatched  one  column  to  make  a  detour 
through  the  thick  undegrowth  to  the  left,  and  on  gaining  the 
New  Point  Road,  to  bear  down  upon  the  right  flank  of  the  enemy's 
position.  Another  column,  the  smallest  of  the  three,  was  directed 
to  proceed  to  the  right,  and  threaten  the  British  left  and  rear. 

General  Hand,,  after  witnessing  the  departure  of  the  two 
flanking  detachments,  formed  the  remainder  of  his  force  into  a 
column  of  attack,  and  while  waiting  the  lapse  of  sufficient  time 
to  enable  the  two  columns  to  gain  the  desired  points  for  co-opera- 
tion, addressed  his  men,  exhorting  them  to  pay  attention  to  orders, 
keep  cool,  as  at  Monmouth,  and,  above  all,  not  to  waste  ammuni- 
tion. The  Americans,  impatient  of  delay,  could  hardly  be  re- 
strained from  dashing  forward  upon  the  earthwork,  now  in  plain 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  51 

view,  and  but  a  few  hundred  yards  in  their  immediate  front.  The 
long-expected  command,  "Forward,"  was  at  length  quietly  given, 
and  with  steady  step  the  assaulting  column  pressed  down  Water 
Street  towards  the  common  goal.  It  was  evident  to  all  that  the 
enemy  were  fully  prepared  to  .receive  them,  yet  not  a  man  faltered 
— each  felt  the  responsibility  resting  upon  him — all  were  eager 
for  the  fray. 

The  British  commander,  who  had  been  on  the  alert  since 
first  learning  of  the  advance  of  the  patriot  army,  while  confident 
of  his  ability  to  hold  the  position  assigned  him,  had  apprised 
Knyphausen  of  the  approach  of  the  Americans,  and  of  the  threat- 
ened attack,  and  had  asked  that  reinforcements  might  be  kept  in 
readiness  to  assist  him  in  the  event  of  his  inability  to  withstand 
assault.  From  the  redoubt  the  British  commandant  saw  the  cau- 
tious advance  of  the  Americans,  for  whose  reception  he  had  made 
every  preparation  in  his  power.  He  had  carefully  trained  his 
artillery  to  -rake  the  road  at  the  foot  of  the  knoll  (where  Smith 
Street  now  intersects  Elizabeth  Avenue),  and  with  lighted 
matches  his  cannoneers  stood  ready  to  obey  his  bidding,  and  hurl 
a  storm  of  iron  hail  upon  the  advancing  patriots. 

The  crucial  moment  came  at  last,  when  the  stillness  of  that 
summer  morning  was  broken  by  the  booming  of  British  artillery 
and  the  rattle  of  small  arms.  The  road  (Elizabeth  Avenue) 
along  which  the  Americans  were  making  their  way,  was  ploughed 
"by  cannon  balls,  whose  hissing  would  have  been  sufficient  to  ap- 
pall the  hearts  of  others  than  patriots  determined  to  punish  the 
cruel  invader  and  drive  him  from  the  soil  so  dear  to  them.  With 
compressed  lips  and  firm  tread  the  Continentals  pressed  forward, 
only  halting  when  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  knoll,  about  one 
hundred  yards  from  the  breastworks.  It  was  from  this  point  the 
centre  column  opened  fire  upon  the  redoubt. 

Meantime  General  Hand  had  received  no  tidings  from  either 
of  his  detached  columns,  and  finding  the  enemy  too  strongly 
posted  decided  it  would  be  fatal  to  storm  the  British  position 
without  their  co-operation.  Passing  and  repassing  his  thin  line, 
General  Hand,  momentarily  expecting  to  hear  of  the  success  of 
the  flanking  parties,  encouraged  his  lion-hearted  men  to  hold  their 
ground  and  be  ready  to  spring  forward  upon  the  works  when  the 
opportune  moment  arrived.  The  American  commander  watched 
with  impatience  for  some  signal  from  his  absent  detachments, 
that  he  might  at  the  proper  moment  rush  forward  and  secure 
the  prize  he  had  hoped  was  within  his  reach. 

Directly,  the  British  slackened  their  fire,  having  observed  the 


52  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

rapid  advance  of  the  Americans  along  the  New  Point  Road,  from 
the  direction  of  Jersey  Street.  As  this  movement  jeopardized 
their  safety,  the  British  hastily  limbered  their  guns,  and  fled  pre- 
cipitately to  the  rear,  across  the  fields  and  down  Old  Point  Road 
towards  the  water.  The  two  American  columns  entered  the 
deserted  earthwork  at  the  same  moment,  the  men  cheering  wildly 
over  the  success  achieved. 

Without  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  his  third  column,  which 
he  had  not  heard  from,  General  Hand  ordered  a  pursuit  of  the 
fleeing  enemy,  and  a  movement  was  made  as  far  as  Sixth  Street, 
where  a  halt  was  made,  owing  to  the  approach  of  a  large  force 
up  New  Point  Road.  Finding  himself  largely  outnumbered,  the 
American  commander  retrograded  to  the  Cross  Roads,  where  he 
awaited  the  arrival  of  his  right  flanking  column,  which  an  aide- 
de-camp  finally  found  endeavoring  to  make  its  way  out  of  a  dan- 
gerous morass  in  the  vicinity  of  where  the  gas  company's  property 
now  is  on  Fourth  Avenue. 

General  Hand,  having  united  his  columns,  and  finding  him- 
self unable  to  successfully  cope  with  the  large  force  now  being 
brought  up  to  assail  him,  retired  up  Water  Street,  and  so  from 
the  town,  his  rear  being  well  protected  by  his  riflemen.  The 
British,  however,  were  brought  to  a  standstill  where  the  Elizabeth 
River  crosses  West  Jersey  Street,  and  thus  ended  the  second 
battle  of  Elizabethtown. 


THE  SECOND  BATTLE  OF  SPRINGFIELD. 

NEW  JERSEY,  sandwiched  between  the  states  of  New  York 
and  Pennsylvania,  and  particularly  Elizabethtown,  con- 
tiguous to  a  large  British  army  encamped  for  a  long  time 
on  Staten  Island,  suffered  more  from  the  enemy's  depredations 
during  eight  years  of  the  revolutionary  war  than  any  other  section 
of  the  country.     The  most  important  battles  and  engagements 
were  'fought  in  this  state,  and  Elizabethtown  came  in  for  more 
than  a  full  share  of  the  trouble. 

Soldiers  born  in  and  about  this  town,  including  Colonel  Aaron 
Burr,  whose  after  life  was  made  miserable  by  selfish  and  design- 
ing men,  participated  in  almost  every  engagement  from  Quebeo 
to  Yorktown.  They  were  at  Trenton,  Princeton  and  Monmouth ; 
they  accompanied  General  Benedict  Arnold  on  his  perilous  march 
to  Canada,  and  were  at  Ticonderoga,  and  in  the  disastrous  battle 
on  Long  Island.  They  took  part  in  the  storming  and  capture  of 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  53 

.Stony  Point,  and  were  rewarded  for  their  valor  there  by  General 
Washington,  who  presented  them  with  a  beautiful  brass  field  piece 
which  the  English  captured  from  the  French  at  the  fall  of  Que- 
bec. Elizabethtown  boys  opened  the  battle  of  Brandywine,  and 
distinguished  themselves  shortly  after  at  the  battle  of  German- 
town.  They  passed  the  long  and  trying  winter  of  1777-78  at 
Valley  Forge,  many  of  them  without  shoes,  and  none  with  suf- 
ficient clothing.  They  charged  fiercely  at  Monmouth  under  the 
noble  Lafayette,  a  fact  he  well  remembered  and  stated  when  he 
made  a  visit  to  Elizabethtown  in  1824,  receiving  an  ovation  from 
our  people.  In  1779  nearly  two  regiments  of  Elizabethtown  boys 
marched  up  the  Susquehanna  to  avenge  the  massacre  of  whites 
by  Seneca  Indians  in  the  Wyoming  Valley  of  Pennsylvania. 

No  organization  of  American  soldiers  fought  on  so  many 
fields  during  the  revolution  as  General  William  Maxwell's  brigade 
of  the  "Jersev  Line,"  composed  chiefly  of  men,  young  and  old 
who  claimed  birthright  in  and  about  this  town,  which,  I  may  add^ 
embraced  a  large  extent  of  territory,  including  the  villages  of 
Connecticut  Farms,  Springfield  and  Newark. 

In  a  previous  chapter  I  described  the  battle  of  Elizabethtown 
— June  7-8,  1780 — concluding  with  the  enforced  retirement  of 
the  defeated  British  army  within  its  works  along  the  water  front 
on  the  evening  of  June  8.  The  British  suffered  severely  both 
days,  but  concluding  to  make  another  attempt  to  penetrate  Wash- 
ington's lines  at  and  beyond  the  Short  Hills,  north  of  Springfield 
when  circumstances  became  more  propitious,  it  remained  on  this 
side  of  Staten  Island  sound.  The  boat  pontoon  across  the  sound 
laid  on  the  evening  of  the  sixth,  was  kept  intact,  and  thoroughly 
guarded  during  the  occupancy  of  the  town  by  the  enemy. 

General  Knyphausen,  commanding  the  British  columns  in 
the  battles  on  the  7th  and  8th,  had  proven  such  a  "magnificent 
failure"  as  a  leader  that  he  was  superceded  in  command  by  Sir 
Henry  Clinton,  who  no  more  understood  the  character  and  ability 
of  the  American  volunteer  soldier  than  his  predecessor,  though 
he  had  witnessed  their  brilliant  valor  at  Brandywine  and  on  the 
glorious  field  of  Monmouth. 

Clinton  secured  more  artillery  (having  no  less  than  half  a 
dozen  field  batteries)  and  additional  men,  and  being  fully  pre- 
pared for  an  advance  to  the  mountains,  broke  camp  just  after 
midnight  on  the  morning  of  Friday,  June  23,  and  marched  rapidly 
and  silently  through  this  town  by  way  of  First  Avenue,  Elizabeth 
Avenue,  and  West  Jersey  Street,  and  thence  northwest  on  the 
road  over  Galloping  Hill  to  Connecticut  Farms,  the  scene  of  the 


54  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF   THE 

recent  defeat  by  our  farmers,  where,  as  the  lovely  day  was  just 
beaming,  shots  were  fired  that  initiated  the  battle  of  Springfield, 
one  of  the  best  contested  and  spirited  engagements  of  the  war. 

By  this  time  the  surrounding  country  had  been  thoroughly 
aroused  by  the  sullen  booming  of  a  large  cannon  and  the  blazing 
of  tar  barrels  at  the  signal  station  on  Prospect  Hill,  near  Spring- 
field. These  dread  alarms  summoned  the  militiamen  from  their 
homes,  at  which  they  were  permitted  to  remain  when  no  danger 
threatened,  and  they  hastened  to  the  various  rendezvous  with 
rifle,  bullet  pouch  and  powder  horn  in  hand.  Not  a  man  in  this 
section  shirked  duty  that  day.  Some,  too  infirm  to  walk,  mounted 
horses  and  dashed  to  the  point  of  danger.  All  were  anxious  tc 
again  confront  the  hated  Briton  and  contribute  to  his  expulsion 
They  bitterly  remembered  the  cruel  murder  of  the  sainted  Mrs, 
Caldwell,  a  few  days  previous,  as  well  as  the  burning  of  the  church 
and  their  homes  at  Connecticut  Farms,  and  were  eager  to  take 
part  in  the  fray,  and  drive  back  the  haughty  invader,  the  despoiler 
of  their  firesides. 

When  the  British  commander  reached  the  Farms  he  divided 
his  force,  sending  one  column  to  the  right  by  way  of  the  Vauxhali 
Road,  running  north  through  Headleytown  to  Milburn,  to 
threaten  the  left  flank  of  the  Americans,  posted  in  the  principal 
pass  over  the  Short  Hills,  while  the  other  column  was  despatched 
to  the  left,  taking  the  narrow  road  running  north  till  it  intersects 
what  is  now  Morris  Avenue,  a  mile  and  more  this  side  of  the 
Rahway  River,  and  half  a  mile  from  the  village  of  Springfield. 

Major-General  Greene,  one  of  Washington's  trusted  lieu- 
tenants, in  supreme  command  of  the  American  forces  at  Short 
Hills,  had  placed  Colonel  Matthias  Ogden's  First  New  Jersey 
Regiment  (Elizabethtowners),  Captain  George  Walker's  riflemen 
of  the  Second  New  Jersey  Regiment,  and  Lieut.  Colonel  Harry 
Lee's  ("Light  Horse  Harry"  of  Virginia)  Famous  Legion,  in 
which  more  than  one  hundred  New  Jerseymen  gallantly  served 
during  the  war,  at  Littell's  Bridge  on  the  Vauxhali  Road,  to 
resist  the  advance  of  the  British  in  that  direction. 

To  Colonel  Elias  Dayton's  Third  New  Jersey  Regiment 
and  Colonel  Angell's  Rhode  Island  Battalion,  with  a  small  field 
piece,  was  entrusted  the  main  defence  of  the  village.  Colonel 
Dayton,  ranking  officer  on  this  part  of  the  field,  stationed  his  com- 
mand at  the  wooden  bridge  spanning  the  Rahway  River,  a  few 
hundred  yards  this  side  of  Springfield,  and  a  smaller  force  under 
Colonel  Israel  Shreve,  Second  New  Jersey  Regiment,  at  the  bridge 
over  a  small  stream,  at  the  north  end  of  the  village.  Colonel  Day- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  55 

ton,  while  impatiently  awaiting  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  took 
the  precaution  to  remove  the  planks  from  the  two  bridges.  This 
was  a  wise  proceeding,  as  it  delayed  the  final  advance  of  the 
British,  while  getting  their  artillery  across  the  stream,  greatly 
swollen  on  account  of  a  rain-storm  a  day  or  two  previously. 

Meanwhile  the  British  column  on  the  Vauxhall  Road,  unable 
to  dislodge  Colonel  Ogden's  command  at  Littell's  Bridge,  where  a 
stubborn  fight  took  place,  in  which  "Light  Horse  Harry"  made 
repeated  charges  with  his  dashing  horsemen,  moved  to  the  right 
and,  completely  flanking  Ogden's  position,  compelled  his  retire- 
ment. 

When  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  who  was  with  the  main  column  on 
Morris  avenue,  learned  of  this  success,  he  moved  his  serried  line 
over  a  hill  against  Colonel  Dayton's  insignificant  force  at  the 
bridge.  Clinton  covered  this  movement  with  a  fierce  cannonad- 
ing, no  less  than  fifteen  pieces  being  thus  employed  on  the  rising 
ground  three  hundred  yards  south  of  the  bridge. 

Despite  this  formidable  array  of  the  enemy,  and  the  constant 
blazing  of  their  artillery,  Colonel  Dayton's  brave  Elizabethtowners 
and  Angell's  heroic  Rhode  Islanders,  posted  along  the  right  bank 
of  the  river,  where  the  trees  afforded  excellent  cover,  maintained 
their  position,  and  kept  the  trained  Britons  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance for  nearly  an  hour.  The  small  field  piece  possessed  by  the 
Americans,  planted  on  what  is  now  known  as  "Battle  Hill,"  did 
good  execution,  and  added  greatly  to  the  torment  of  the  British 
commander,  who  was  surprised  at  the  tenacity  and  intrepidity  of 
the  little  band  of  Americans.  It  was  at  this  point  that  the  chief 
fighting  occurred,  and  it  was  only  when  the  ammunition  of  the 
Americans  was  nearly  expended,  and  a  flanking  movement  on  the 
part  of  the  enemy  was  being  carried  out,  that  the  greatly  out- 
numbered patriots  gave  way,  falling  back  slowly  through  the 
village,  taking  their  dead  and  wounded  along. 

There  is  a  pretty  legend  that  while  the  battle  was  in  progress 
the  Elizabethtown  boys  being  short  of  wadding  for  their  flintlock 
muskets,  Rev.  Mr.  Caldwell  the  patriotic  chaplain  of  Colonel 
Dayton's  regiment,  ran  to  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  heart 
of  the  village,  and  gathering  some  hymn  books,  hastened  back 
and  distributing  them  among  his  comrades,  said:  "Now,  boys^ 
put  Watts  into  them." 

The  British  pursued  the  retreating  Americans  through  the 
village  and  some  little  distance  beyond,  but  on  learning  that 
Washington  was  advancing  with  a  strong  force,  Sir  Henry  halted 
and  smarting  under  the  disgrace  of  his  defeat  by  less  than  1,OOC 


OO  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

farmer  boys,  for  the  time  being  militiamen,  he  eased  his  con- 
science by  giving  the  village  up  to  pillage,  a  work  in  which  his 
followers  were  adepts.  Before  quitting  the  village  the  enemy 
set  fire  to  the  frame  church  edifice  and  nineteen  dwelling  houses, 
which,  together  with  outbuildings,  were  totally  consumed.  The 
humane  Sir  Henry  was  induced  to  spare  four  houses,  occupied 
by  his  wounded. 

The  British,  in  their  hurried  retreat  back  to  this  town,  were 
closely  followed  by  our  brave  militiamen,  who  frequently  am- 
bushed the  dispirited  foe,  killing  and  wounding  many  by  the  way- 
side. The  survivors  entered  the  town  in  great  disorder  at  sunset 
and  after  a  brief  stop  within  their  earthworks  at  the  "Point," 
crossed  the  sound.  When  daylight  came  nothing  was  to  be  seen 
of  the  Britons  or  the  pontoon  bridge. 

The  reader  must  remember  that  all  the  engagements,  from 
the  7th  to  the  23d  of  June,  took  place  within  the  territorial  limits 
of  Elizabethtown,  and  that  nearly  all  the  men  who  so  often  bared 
their  breasts  to  the  storm  of  war,  were  natives  of  this  section — 
men  who  cheerfully  left  their  everyday  occupation  and  firesides 
when  summoned  to  field  duty.  The  yeomanry  of  New  Jersey 
served  without  pay,  and  provided  for  their  own  necessities,  even 
to  furnishing  themselves  with  arms  and  ammunition.  Theii 
heroism,  sacrifices  and  brilliant  services  should  never  be  forgotten. 

If  there  is  a  town  in  all  this  broad  land  of  ours  that  is  rich 
in  the  memories  of  the  past,  rich  in  the  traditions  of  "Auld  Lang 
Syne,"  rich  in  the  fealty  which  she  has  ever  shown  towards  the 
state  and  national  governments,  it  is  the  fair  city  of  Elizabeth, 
the  resting  place  of  the  martyred  Caldwell  and  his  sainted  wife, 
of  the  heroic  Ogdens,  Spencer,  Daytons  and  Barber,  and  of  the 
old  home  of  the  victor  of  Lundy's  Lane. 

The  patriots  of  Elizabethtown,  from  July,  1776,  to  the  latter 
part  of  1781,  suffered  more  from  the  depredations  of  British  and 
tory  marauders  than  the  people  of  any  other  section.  The  town 
during  those  five  terrible  years,  lying  contiguous  to  the  British 
army  which  occupied  Staten  Island,  was  subjected  to  almost 
constant  predatory  incursions,  some  of  which  were  attended  by 
great  barbarities.  Infants,  children,  old  men  and  women  were 
left  naked  and  exposed,  and  furniture,  which  the  raiders  were 
unable  to  carry  away,  was  wantonly  destroyed;  dwellings  and 
cut-buildings  burned  or  rendered  uninhabitable;  churches  and 
public  buildings  consumed,  and  the  most  fiendish  outrages  per- 
petrated upon  women  and  even  very  young  girls. 

I  believe  these  horrors  had  much  to  do  with  the  failure  of  the 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  57 

British  soldiery  to  establish  itself  in  this  country,  for  had  the 
enemy  paid  for  the  supplies  taken,  and  respected  the  rights  of  the 
people,  the  cause  of  independence  might  have  been  lost.  The 
ruthless  outrages  of  the  enemy  had  the  effect  of  arousing  intense 
indignation  and  embittered  the  people,  who  rose  in  their  majesty 
to  repeal  the  invaders  and  revenge  their  personal  injuries. 

A  resume  of  the  leading  incidents  occurring  in  Elizabeth- 
town  during  the  war  may  be  of  interest: 

1775. 

Monday,  May  8,  members  of  Congress  from  Massachusetts. 
Connecticut  and  New  York,  en  route  to  Philadelphia,  were  met 
this  side  of  Newark  by  many  Elizabethtown  gentlemen  mounted, 
and  escorted  through  the  town  to  Rahway.  The  distinguished 
party  received  an  ovation  here. 

The  Provincial  Congress  of  New  Jersey  convened  here  May 
27.  William  Livingston  and  John  DeHart,  of  this  town,  were 
the  first  representatives  of  New  Jersey  in  Congress.  They  were 
re-elected  the  following  year. 

July  17,  the  Town  Committee  forwarded  to  Washington  at 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  fifty-two  casks  of  gunpowder,  purchased  in 
Philadelphia,  and  in  August  the  committee  sent  on  nearly  seven 
tons  additional.  It  was  carried  in  rack-riggings,  covered  with 
hay,  to  allay  suspicion. 

July  17,  the  Town  Committee  resolved  to  re-establish  com- 
mercial intercourse  with  the  people  of  Staten  Island,  they  having 
pledged  themselves  to  prove  true  to  the  cause  of  American  lib- 
erty. The  compact  was  broken  by  the  Islanders  the  moment  the 
British  army  landed  on  their  soil,  July  2,  1776. 

October  4,  sixteen  companies  of  infantry  and  one  of  horse, 
belonging  to  the  town,  which  then  included  the  greater  part  of 
what  is  now  Union  County,  were  reviewed  on  the  parade-ground 
on  Broad  Street.  In  1868  a  patriotic  city  council  shamefully 
surrendered  this  public  space  to  the  First  Presbyterian  Church 
congregation,  which  it  imprisoned  within  a  high  iron  fence. 

October  9,  Congress  issued  its  first  call  for  troops  from  New 
Jersey,  and  three  regiments  of  eight  companies  each  were 
promptly  organized.  Two  of  these  commands  were  composed 
of  Elizabethtown  men.  The  First  Regiment  was  commanded 
by  Lord  Stirling,  the  Third  regiment  by  Colonel  Elias  Dayton. 
The  men  were  enlisted  for  one  year  at  $5  per  month,  and  each 
private,  instead  of  a  bounty,  was  allowed  one  felt  hat,  a  pair  of 


58  HISTORICAL   SKETCHES   OF   THE 

yarn  stockings,  and  a  pair  of  shoes.     Each  man  had  to  supply 
himself  with  arms. 

In  November  Congress  established  a  recruiting  station  here, 
and  Willis m  Alexander  (titular),  Earl  of  Stirling,  residing  at 
Baskingridge,  came  down  here  and  organized  the  First  New  Jer- 
sey Regiment  of  volunteers. 

1776. 

January  22,  Colonel  Stirling,  with  thirty  men  of  his  regiment, 
and  Colonel  Dayton,  with  one  hundred  volunteers  of  his  Third 
Regiment,  went  to  Perth  Amboy  (the  latter  party  in  boats),  and 
next  morning  captured  the  British  ship,  "Blue  Mountain  Valley," 
j;ist  in  from  England  with  a  valuable  cargo.  The  prize  was 
brought  to  this  town  and  the  cargo  sold,  the  proceeds  being 
divided  among  the  brave  fellows  who  engaged  in  the  undertaking. 

February  5,  Colonel  Stirling  marched  to  New  York  City 
with  four  companies  of  his  regiment. 

March  1,  Colonel  Stirling  was  promoted  brigadier-general. 

February  3,  Abraham  Ogden  was  appointed  lieutenant-colo- 
nel of  a  regiment  of  light  horsemen  raised  in  this  section. 

February  10,  General  Livingston,  commander-in-chief  of 
militia,  sent  three  hundred  Elizabethtown  minute-men  over  to  the 
eastern  shcre  of  Staten  Island  to  resist  a  threatened  landing  there 
of  British  troops  under  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  just  arrived  from 
Boston.  Sir  Henry,  seeing  our  farmer  boys  along  the  shore, 
thought  it  advisable  to  postpone  his  landing,  and  sailed  away. 

In  March,  Elizabethtowners  commenced  to  throw  up  earth- 
works along  the  water-front,  and  shortly  after  Congress  called 
upon  this  town  to  equip  a  battalion  for  service  in  Canada.  Abra- 
ham Clark,  who  signed  the  immortal  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, replied :  "If  all  the  congresses  upon  the  continent  required 
us  to  disarm  ourselves  at  present,  unless  we  are  deemed  dangerous 
to  liberty,  I  would  not  obey."  The  situation  here  at  this  moment 
was  critical,  and  our  people  acted  wisely  in  husbanding  every 
resource.  In  fact,  the  want  of  proper  arms  was  most  seriously 
felt  by  those  who  had  enlisted. 

March  24,  Colonel  Dayton  marched  his  regiment  to  New 
York  for  the  defence  of  that  city. 

In  June,  anticipating  the  speedy  disembarkation  of  the  re- 
cently-arrived British  army  from  England  and  the  continent 
General  Livingston  ordered  the  removal  of  live  stock  from  Staten 
Island,  and  a  force  of  light  horsemen  and  militiamen  went  over 
and  brought  the  cattle  to  this  town.  The  tories  on  the  Island 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  59> 

whose  hearts  were  ever  with  the  British,  objected  to  the  pro- 
ceeding, but  their  wishes  were  disregarded.  Staten  Island  was 
intensely  disloyal  to  the  American  cause  throughout  the  war. 
and  for  a  long  time  afterwards. 

July  2,  the  British  landed  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Staten 
Island,  and  next  day  marched  over  to  this  side.  Their  appear- 
ance on  the  hills  greatly  excited  the  inhabitants  of  this  town,  so 
much  so  that  two  young  men,  on  the  Fourth,  crossed  the  sound 
in  a  canoe  and  discharged  their  rifles  at  the  red-coats.  They 
icturned  in  safety,  although  pursued  by  the  enemy. 

July  4,  General  Livingston  wrote  Washington  that  breast- 
works had  been  thrown  up  from  Elizabeth  River,  northward,  as 
far  as  where  the  Singer  factory  is  now  located,  and  that  he  had 
mounted  therein  two  field  pieces,  with  a  portion  of  Captain 
Daniel  Neill's  company  of  artillery.  During  the  evening  of  the 
fourth  a  British  sloop  of  war  came  to  the  Point,  and  was  destroyed 
by  Neill's  guns,  the  first  to  be  fired  after  the  adoption  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence. 

July  10,  nine  Elizabethtown  riflemen  crossed  the  sound  in  a 
boat  and  attacked  a  force  of  British  soldiers  engaged  in  throw- 
ing up  a  breastwork  on  the  meadows.  One,  with  a  venture- 
some spirit,  advanced  alone  upon  the  British  force  and  demand- 
ed its  surrender.  A  ball  through  his  head  was  the  only  response. 
His  comrades  beat  a  retreat,  leaving  the  body  behind.  In  the 
afternoon  Colonel  Smith,  commanding  here,  sent  over  to  the 
Island  for  the  body,  which  the  British  officer  kindly  surrendered 
together  with  the  dead  soldier's  rifle  and  all  his  accoutrements 

July  18,  General  Mercer  came  here  from  Amboy  to  make 
an  attack  on  Staten  Island.  He  took  along  1,300  men  and  in- 
tended crossing  the  sound  at  Thompson's  Creek,  opposite  the 
Blazing  Star,  but  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  embarking  his  force 
in  boats  a  tremendous  storm  of  lightning  and  thunder  came  up 
suddenly,  compelling  him  to  abandon  the  enterprise. 

August  25,  Captain  Neill's  artillery,  posted  at  the  foot  of 
Elizabeth  avenue,  where  he  destroyed  the  British  gunboat  on  the 
night  of  the  fourth,  opened  on  the  enemy  in  the  afternoon,  the 
British  replying  vigorously. 

August  31,  General  Livingston  was  chosen  the  first  governor 
of  New  Jersey.  He  served  with  great  satisfaction  to  the  people 
from  1776  to  1790 — 14  years — the  longest  term  any  governor  of 
this  state  ever  had. 

September  24,  four  vessels  arrived  here  with  420  American 
soldiers  taken  prisoners  at  Quebec.  They  were  under  parole. 


<60  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

October  13,  General  Matthias  Williamson,  commanding  the 
militia  here,  crossed  to  Staten  Island  with  a  considerable  force, 
and  had  a  sharp  skirmish  with  the  enemy,  who  compelled  him  to 
withdraw. 

November  21,  owing  to  Washington's  contemplated  retreat 
through  the  state,  all  the  families  in  Newark  and  Elizabeth  moved 
their  effects  to  the  mountains. 

November  26,  Colonel  Jacob  Ford,  Jr.,  of  Morris  County 
came  down  here  with  all  the  militiamen  he  could  gather.  Each 
man  had  four  days'  rations,  a  gun,  accoutrements  and  a  blanket. 

November  28,  Washington,  with  3,500  disheartened  meni 
entered  this  almost  deserted  town.  After  a  brief  rest,  he  con- 
tinued on  to  Trenton,  which  he  reached  December  2. 

December  2,  Lord  Cornwallis'  powerful  army  reached  here. 
He  left  a  considerable  force  under  command  of  General  Leslie, 
and  went  on  in  pursuit  of  Washington. 

December  17,  Major  Oliver  Spencer,  of  this  town,  assisted 
by  Colonel  Jacob  Ford,  Jr.,  administered  a  stunning  defeat  to 
General  Leslie's  2,000  British  regulars  at  Springfield. 

1777. 

January  6,  General  Maxwell  came  down  here  from  the  Short 
Hills,  and  drove  a  large  force  of  Hessians  out  of  Springfield 
Newark,  and  Elizabeth  town,  pursuing  them  to  Spanktown  (Rah- 
way),  where  he  had  a  spirited  fight  for  two  hours,  inflicting  severe 
ioss  on  the  enemy.  In  the  engagement  here  General  Maxwell 
captured  thirty  Hessians,  fifty  Highlanders  and  numerous  wagons 
loaded  with  baggage.  Thus,  in  a  month,  the  enemy  had  been 
driven  from  New  Jersey,  and  the  hopes  of  the  patriots  rose  high. 

February  27,  Major  Tympany  came  over  here  from  Staten 
Island  with  sixty  men,  and  after  a  sharp  conflict  at  the  cross- 
roads was  compelled  to  flee. 

August  27,  Colonel  Matthias  Ogden,  commanding  the  First 
New  Jersey,  and  Colonel  Elias  Dayton,  commanding  the 
Third  New  Jersey,  joined  General  Sullivan's  division  here,  and 
crossing  to  Staten  Island,  attacked  Skinner's  New  Jersey  Pro- 
vincials, posted  along  the  western  shore,  from  Decker's  Ferry 
(Port  Richmond),  to  Tottenville.  Ogden  and  Dayton  success- 
fully carried  out  the  program  assigned  them,  but  the  rest  of  Sul- 
livan's command  lost  heavily,  owing  to  failure  in  finding  boats  in 
which  to  recross  the  sound. 

November  27,  General  Dickinson,  commanding  the  militia 
here,  with  the  approval  of  Washington,  crossed  the  sound  to 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  61 

Staten  Island  during  the  night,  and  attacked  Skinner's  tories. 
Being  outnumbered  Dickinson  retired,  getting  back  here  at  noon 
next  day,  bringing  a  number  of  prisoners.  Three  royalists 
were  captured  and  fourteen  wounded. 

1778. 

Affairs  were  remarkably  quiet  in  town  during  this  year,  and 
almost  everybody  occupied  their  homes  and  farms. 

December  1,  General  Washington,  whose  headquarters  were 
at  Bound  Brook,  came  down  here  to  review  General  Maxwell's 
New  Jersey  brigade.  He  remained  five  days,  and  was  a  guest  of 
a  number  of  our  people.  The  occasion  was  made  festive. 

1779. 

February  25,  the  33d  and  42d  British  Regiments  and  a  com- 
pany of  Horse  Guards,  under  command  of  Lieut.  Colonel  Sterling 
from  Long  Island,  landed  near  where  the  Singer  factory  now  is 
and  entered  the  town  by  way  of  New  Point  Road  before  their 
landing  became  known.  The  object  of  this  expedition  was  tq 
effect  the  capture  of  Governor  Livingston,  upon  whose  precious 
bead  a  high  price  had  been  set  by  high  British  officials.  Major 
Aaron  Ogden  first  discovered  the  presence  of  the  enemy  and  gave 
an  alarm,  and  at  daybreak  General  Maxwell  arrived  and  made  a 
furions  onslaught  on  the  raiders,  driving  them  through  the  town 
to  their  boats.  Before  Maxwell  arrived,  however,  the  British  set 
fire  to  the  First  Church  parsonage  and  barracks  on  Cherry  Street 
and  the  public  academy  on  Broad  street.  It  was  while  pursuing 
the  enemy  along  the  New  Point  Road  that  a  British  soldier  in 
ambush  thrust  a  bayonet  through  the  body  of  Major  Aaron 
Ogden,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  never  recovered. 

1780. 

January  3,  snow  fell  to  a  depth  of  five  or  six  feet,  while 
Staten  Island  and  New  York  Bay  were  frozen  to  such  solidity  that 
horses  and  wagons  could  travel  better  on  the  ice  than  on  the  earth 

January  15,  General  William  Irvine,  with  2,500  men,  includ- 
ing Colonel  Dayton's  regiment,  crossed  the  sound  on  the  ice,  and 
attacked  the  enemy  on  Staten  Island.  The  troops,  despite  the 
deep  snow  and  intense  cold,  did  much  damage  to  the  property 
of  the  Islanders,  and  returned  next  day  at  noon.  Many  of  the  men 
were  badly  frost-bitten. 

January  25,  in  retaliation  for  this  raid,  this  town  was  invaded 
by  a  strong  force  of  the  enemy,  which  succeeded  in  entering  the 


62  HISTORICAL   SKETCHES   OF   THE 

heart  of  the  town  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  before  their 
advance  was  discovered.  They  captured  fifty  American  soldiers, 
ind  before  departing  burned  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  and 
Court  House.  Cornelius  Hetfield,  Jr.,  a  native  of  the  town,  acting 
as  a  guide  to  the  British,  applied  the  torch  to  the  sanctuary  in 
which  his  aged  father  worshipped. 

February  10,  a  column  of  British,  under  Generals  Skinner 
and  Sterling,  crossed  the  sound  on  the  ice,  and  created  dismay 
among  our  people.  After  plundering  a  number  of  houses,  the 
enemy  hastily  withdrew,  taking  much  plunder  and  a  number  of 
inoffensive  citizens  along  as  prisoners. 

The  winter  of  1779-80,  passed  in  constant  alarm  and  terror, 
was  noted  for  the  awful  severity  of  the  weather  and  the  devasta- 
tion of  the  merciless  foe,  aided  by  the  renegade  Hetfields,  who 
fled  to  the  British  on  Staten  Island  in  1776. 

1780. 

June  6,  six  thousand  British  regulars  landed  early  in  the 
evening  at  the  "Point,"  now  foot  of  Elizabeth  Avenue. 

June  7,  the  enemy,  under  General  Knyphausen,  advanced  up 
Old  Point  Road  (now  First  Avenue),  and  were  fired  upon  at  the 
Cross  Roads  by  an  American  piquet  of  thirteen  farmer  boys, 
posted  there  by  Colonel  Dayton.  General  Sterling,  in  command 
of  the  advance,  was  unhorsed  by  a  shot  fired  by  Ensign  Moses 
Ogden,  age  19  years.  Sterling  died  from  the  wound  a  year  later, 
while  young  Ogden  gave  his  life  at  Connecticut  Farms  during 
the  battle  there  in  the  afternoon.  The  British  force,  after  cruelly 
murdering  Mrs.  Caldwell,  and  burning  the  Presbyterian  Church 
and  a  dozen  dwelling  houses,  hastily  retreated  from  the  hamlet, 
re-entering  this  town  early  in  the  evening.  They  marched  to 
the  water  front  and  took  refuge  in  the  earthworks  there.  A 
small  force,  however,  was  left  at  the  Cross  Roads,  at  the  Junction 
of  Old  and  New  Point  Roads. 

June  8,  General  Hand,  who  had  followed  the  British  from 
Connecticut  Farms,  entered  the  town  at  daybreak,  and  at  once 
attacked  the  enemy  at  the  Cross  Roads,  driving  the  detachment 
down  First  Avenue  as  far  as  Third  Street,  where  it  was  rein- 
forced by  Knyphausen's  entire  army.  General  Hand,  finding  him- 
self greatly  outnumbered.,  and  fearing  a  flanking  movement, 
retreated  by  way  of  Elizabeth  Avenue,  Broad  Street,  and  West 
Jersey  Street.  The  British  pursued  the  Americans  to  the  Eliza- 
beth River,  when  they  returned  and  occupied  their  former  posi- 
tions. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  63 

The  British  remained  here  till  the  morning  of  June  23,  when, 
under  the  guidance  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  the  entire  force,  with 
additional  field  batteries,  moved  through  the  town,  one  column 
going  westerly  by  way  of  Galloping  Hill,  the  other  northerly 
by  the  Vauxhall  Road,  to  Springfield,  where  a  severe  battle  took 
place,  resulting  in  the  defeat  and  precipitate  retreat  of  the 
invaders. 

1781. 

During  this  year  the  town  was  almost  constantly  overrun  by 
"Cow-boys"  and  other  Staten  Island  thieves.  They  gave  our  peo- 
ple but  little  rest,  and  made  their  lives  as  wretched  as  possible. 
The  raids  were  generally  made  on  moonless  nights. 

November  24,  Rev.  Mr.  Caldwell,  a  chaplain  in  the  Con- 
tinental army,  was  shot  dead  without  provocation  by  a  native  of 
Ireland  named  Morgan,  who  had  but  recently  joined  the  Ameri- 
can army  for  one  year.  The  murder  took  place  on  a  sloop  lying 
at  the  wharf,  foot  of  Elizabeth  Avenue.  Morgan,  convicted 
of  the  foul  crime,  was  subsequently  hung  at  Westfield. 

1782. 

June  20,  Major  William  Crane,  of  this  town,  with  a  party 
of  thirty  soldiers,  rowed  around  to  the  east  side  of  Staten  Island, 
and  captured  two  large  whale  boats,  which  had  been  fitted  out 
for  a  piratical  cruise. 

1783. 

i 

Perhaps  the  last  act  in  the  eight  years'  drama  was  performed 
by  Major  William  Crane,  who,  although  a  landsman,  was  equally 
at  home  on  the  water.  With  seven  companions  Major  Crane 
embarked  in  a  shallop  on  the  evening  of  March  3,  and  sailed  for 
New  York  City,  where,  off  the  Battery,  he  successively  boarded 
and  captured  the  British  sloop-of-war  "Katy"  of  twelve  four- 
pounders,  and  the  British  ship  "Eagle,"  mounting  twenty-four 
-guns.  Major  Crane,  after  the  war,  was  mayor  of  this  town. 


64  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

TERRORIZED  WHOLE  COMMUNITIES. 

THE  most  notorious  characters  in  the  eastern  section  of  New 
Jersey  during  the  greater  part  of  the  revolution  were  Cor- 
nelius Hetfield,  Jr.,  and  his  brothers,  Job  and  John  Smith 
Hetfield,  natives  of  Elizabethtown.  The  Hetfields,  in  1778,  be- 
coming haters  of  the  patriots'  cause,  went  about  town,  heavily 
armed,  threatening  the  lives  of  all  who  condemned  royalists. 
They  took  good  care  to  make  their  threats  during  the  absence  of 
troops  from  the  town,  but  shortly  after,  a  number  of  citizens,  who 
resolved  to  submit  no  longer  to  abuse  from  the  Hetfields,  got 
together  and  ordered  them  to  leave  the  place.  They  were  con- 
veyed to  Staten  Island,  where  they  remained  until  the  war  was 
over. 

A  few  weeks  after  this  their  property  was  confiscated  and 
sold  at  auction. 

The  Hetfields,  on  reaching  Staten  Island,  became  active 
partisans  for  the  British,  and  neglected  no  opportunity  to  do 
injury  to  their  former  neighbors. 

Cornelius,  the  most  daring  and  bitter  of  the  two,  guided 
the  Thirty-third  and  Forty-second  British  Regiments,  under 
Lieut.-Colonel  Sterling,  who  landed  on  the  night  of  February  24, 
1779,  near  where  the  Singer  factory  now  stands,  to  the  home  of 
Governor  Livingston,  on  Morris  Avenue,  hoping  to  effect  his 
capture. 

Failing  in  this,  the  British,  in  the  rage  of  their  disappoint- 
ment, burned  the  barracks  and  Presbyterian  parsonage  on  Cherry 
Street,  and  an  hour  afterwards  destroyed  the  academy  at  Broad 
Street  and  Caldwell  Place,  where  now  stands  the  lecture  room 
of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church.  It  is  recorded  that  Hetfield 
"danced  i»tout  the  fire  like  a  savage,"  so  great  was  his  glee  over 
the  wanton  destruction. 

On  the  night  of  Saturday,  June  12,  1779,  Cornelius  Hetfield 
with  five  other  banditti,  crossed  Staten  Island  Sound  in  a  skiff, 
and,  reaching  the  home  of  Lieutenant  John  Haviland,  who  lived 
near  the  water,  surprised  him  in  his  bed,  plundered  the  house  of 
its  contents  and  succeeded  in  recrossing  the  sound  to  the  island 
in  safety,  taking  Haviland  and  others  along  as  prisoners. 

A  few  days  after  this  it  was  discovered  that  the  negroes  in 
this  town  contemplated  murdering  all  the  white  inhabitants,  and 
many  of  them  were  arrested  and  punished.  Three  were  burned 
at  stakes.  Cornelius  Hetfield  was  one  of  the  instigators  of  this 
conspiracy. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  65 

During  the  night  of  January  25,  1780,  a  strong  British  force 
from  Staten  Island  crossed  the  sound  on  the  ice  at  Tremley's 
Point,  and  entered  the  town  before  the  few  militiamen  on  guard 
here  could  sound  an  alarm.  The  Britons  were  piloted  by  Cor- 
nelius, Job  and  John  Smith  Hetfield.  It  is  said  that  while  the 
British  were  collecting  cattle,  Cornelius  rode  over  to  the  home  of 
his  parents  on  Pearl  Street  and,  after  rudely  awakening  them 
swore  he  would  not  leave  town  until  he  had  burned  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church,  of  which  congregation  his  aged  father  was 
a  worthy  elder.  The  renegade  carried  out  his  threat,  applying 
the  torch  with  his  own  hands  to  the  hallowed  structure. 

The  court  house  building,  a  frame  structure  adjoining  the 
church,  was  also  set  on  fire  and  consumed.  The  British  hur- 
riedly left  town  before  daybreak,  taking  with  them  two  majors, 
three  captains  and  forty-seven  privates. 

All  is  considered  fair  in  war,  but  I  must  now  narrate  one  of 
the  blackest  crimes  perpetrated  in  this  region  during  the  entire 
war,  for  which  no  excuse  can  be  offered. 

Cornelius  and  John  Smith  Hetfield  and  four  boon  com- 
panions, all  natives  of  this  town,  captured  Stephen  Ball,  of  Rah- 
way,  who  visited  Staten  Island  under  assurance  of  protection, 
and  escorted  him  to  the  headquarters  of  General  Patterson,  the 
British  commander  on  Staten  Island.  This  officer  saw  no  evil 
in  Ball,  and  refused  to  hold  him.  Hetfield,  who  hated  Ball,  then 
took  him  to  General  Skinner,  who  also  refused  to  proceed  against 
him.  Hetfield  alleged  that  Ball  had  aided  in  the  execution  in 
1779  of  Thomas  Long,  a  refugee  from  this  state,  but  the  two 
generals  were  not  satisfied  with  the  truth  of  Hetfield's  charge, 
and  ordered  his  release. 

This  maddened  the  Hetfields,  who  took  him  across  the  sound 
to  Bergen  Point,  and  hung  him  to  a  tree  without  further  cere- 
mony. 

John  Smith  Hetfield  was  captured  at  Westfield  while  steal- 
ing cattle,  and  sent  under  strong  guard  to  the  jail  at  Burlington, 
where  he  was  heavily  ironed.  He  subsequently  effected  his 
escape,  and  George  Hair,  the  jailor,  was  fined  $3,000  for  "letting 
him  do  so."  After  the  war  he  was  tried  at  Bergen  Point  for  par- 
ticipation in  the  brutal  murder  of  Stephen  Ball,  but  was  dis- 
charged on  account  of  the  "absence  of  material  witnesses,"  and 
admitted  to  bail.  He  shortly  after  fled  the  country. 

Cornelius  Hetfield,  after  peace  had  been  declared,  sailed 
for  England,  where  he  remained  until  1808,  when  he  came  to 
Elizabethtown,  to  take  charge  of  the  Hetfield  farm,  bequeathed 


66  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

him  by  his  father,  to  whom,  by  the  way,  he  had  been  ungrateful. 
His  return  was  no  sooner  learned  than  he  was  arrested  and  taken 
to  the  jail  in  Newark,  where  he  was  confined  until  his  trial  for 
being  the  principal  murderer  of  Stephen  Ball. 

Hetfidd  was  able  to  secure  the  services  of  three  of  the  ablest 
lawyers  in  the  state — Colonel  Aaron  Ogden  (ex-governor  and 
ex-United  States  senator)  and  Isaac  H.  Williamson  (afterwards 
governor),  and  William  Chetwood.  After  an  exhaustive  trial 
Judge  Pennington  discharged  Hetfield,  declaring  that  "by  the 
spirit  of  the  treaty  of  1783,  he  was  not  answerable  for  the 
transaction." 

Hetfield,  thus  escaping,  returned  to  England,  where  he  died- 
at  an  advanced  age. 


DELIGHTED  TO  PUNISH  THE  BRITISH. 

GENERAL  WILLIAM  CRANE,  a  native  of  Elizabeth- 
town,  and  its  first  mayor  after  the  war,  first  saw  service 
in  Canada,  whither  he  went  with  Aaron  Burr  and  other 
town  boys  in  the  disastrous  Montgomery  expedition.  He  was 
appointed  a  lieutenant  of  an  artillery  company,  and  as  such  won 
a  reputation  as  a  fighter  that  lasted  him  through  life.  It  was 
while  his  gun  was  doing  good  service  at  Quebec  on  that  terribly 
stormy  night — December  31,  1775 — that  Lieutenant  Crane  re- 
ceived a  wound  in  his  left  ankle,  from  a  shot  fired  by  the  old  gun 
now  reposing  on  the  Court  House  lawn,  from  the  effects  of  which 
he  died  forty  years  later. 

"It  was  in  March,  1783,  long  after  a  treaty  of  peace  between 
England  and  this  colony  had  been  signed,  and  while  the  English 
soldiers  were  preparing  to  evacuate  New  York  City,  that  Major 
Crane  designed  and  successfully  carried  out  one  of  the  most  dar- 
ing acts  of  the  revolution.  The  major,  owing  to  the  ghastly 
wound  received  at  Quebec,  from  which  he  never  recovered,  and 
unable  to  remain  on  active  duty  during  the  war,  attached  himself 
to  the  militia,  or  home-guard,  and  thus  rendered  good  service. 
He  had  intense,  burning  hate  for  the  English,  and  although 
peace  had  been  declared,  determined  to  deal  a  final  blow  to  the 
enemy.  It  was  the  last  act  of  hostility. 

The  major  called  a  number  of  boys  together  one  evening 
and  presented  a  plan  for  capturing  or  destroying  a  couple  of 
English  gunboats  he  knew  to  be  anchored  off  the  Battery  in  New 
York.  Thinking  it  would  be  sport  to  engage  in  the  enterprise. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  67 

six  promptly  offered  to  accompany  the  major  and  Captain  "Bill" 
Quigley  on  the  expedition. 

Each  armed  with  a  cutlass  and  musket,  they  embarked  in  a 
whale  boat  early  on  the  evening  of  March  3,  and  although  the 
winds  were  strong,  and  the  waters  rough,  before  midnight  they 
reached  a  point  under  a  small  island,  within  easy  reach  of  the 
Battery,  off  which  two  vessels  were  at  lazy  anchor. 

It  was  here  that  Major  Crane  repeated  his  instructions,  and 
all  being  prepared,  with  muffled  oars  they  rowed  to  the  nearest 
vessel,  which  proved  to  be  the  sloop  "Katy,"  armed  with  twelve 
four-pound  guns.  It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  leap 
upon  the  "Katy's"  deck,  which  the  men  did  the  instant  their  craft 
reached  its  side,  and  before  any  alarm  could  be  given  by  the 
single  guard,  stationed  at  the  entrance  to  the  captain's  cabin 
he  was  seized  and  gagged.  The  rest  was  easy.  The  crew,  num- 
bering forty,  were  surprised.  After  bucking  and  gagging  the 
officers  and  crew,  the  major  left  two  of  his  followers  to  guard 
the  prisoners  who  were  locked  in  the  captain's  cabin,  and  with 
Quigley  and  the  other  four,  rowed  quietly  to  another  vessel,  close 
at  hand,  which  they  subsequently  ascertained  to  be  the  sloop-of- 
war  "Eagle,"  of  twenty-four  guns. 

The  major  had  no  difficulty  in  capturing  the  "Eagle,"  but  as 
she  was  hard  aground  was  compelled  to  leave  her  there,  much 
to  his  regret.  Major  Crane,  after  transferring  the  crew  and 
removing  some  valuables  from  the  "Katy, "thought  of  setting  fire 
to  the  "Eagle,"  but  afraid  of  pursuit  by  other  war  vessels  close 
by  and  well  satisfied  with  his  success  in  taking  the  "Katy,"  he 
hoisted  sail  on  that  vessel,  and  as  Aurora  was  casting  his  bright 
beams  over  the  old  town,  sailed  into  the  Kills,  firing  the  "Katy's" 
guns  as  fast  as  his  men  could  load  them,  alarming  the  inhabitants 
and  making  a  din  that  had  not  been  heard  here  in  a  long  time. 
Many  people  made  haste  to  get  down  to  the  ferry  at  what  is  now 
the  foot  of  Elizabeth  avenue,  wondering  what  could  have  occa- 
sioned such  an  infernal  noise. 

A  few  days  later  the  vessel  and  cargo,  which  was  valuable, 
on  account  of  the  large  stock  of  good  old  Jamaica  found  on 
board,  were  sold  at  auction,  the  proceeds  being  devoted  to  town 
purposes. 

Major  Crane's  exploit  caused  a  sensation,  and  for  many 
years  afforded  a  theme  of  conversation  among  our  people.  He 
died,  universally  icgretted,  at  the  age  of  67  years,  on  the  ninth 
of  July,  1814,  having  a  year  previously  suffered  the  amputation 
of  the  leg  which  was  torn  by  a  shot  at  Quebec,  nearly  forty  years 
"before. 


68  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 


ELIZABETH  OFFICERS  THREATENED  MUTINY. 

THE  New  Jersey  Brigade  of  the  Continental  Army,  during 
the  winter  of  1779,  was  encamped  in  and  about  Elizabeth- 
town,   guarding  it   from  probable   incursions   of  British 
troops,  stationed  on   Staten  Island.     When  spring  opened  the 
various  regiments  were  ordered  to  march  away  to  reinforce  the 
western  aimy,  then  about  to  open  the  campaign. 

During  the  winter  the  officers  of  the  First  Regiment  had 
appealed  to  the  state  legislature  for  a  redress  of  certain  griev- 
ances, especially  as  to  the  pay  and  subsistence  which  they  re- 
ceived, but  no  attention  was  given  the  petitions  for  a  betterment 
of  their  condition. 

When  the  orders  came  to  march  the  officers  of  the  First 
Regiment  sent  a  icmonstrance  through  Colonel  Ogden,  addressed 
to  the  legislature  declaring  that  unless  their  complaints  received 
immediate  attention  they  were,  at  the  expiration  of  three  days, 
to  be  considered  as  having  resigned  their  positions,  and  request- 
ing the  legislature  in  that  event  to  appoint  other  officers. 

General  Maxwell,  to  whom  Colonel  Ogden  forwarded  the 
remonstrance  to  the  state  legislature,  endorsed  it  with  the  follow- 
ing words: 

«*  *  *  This  is  a  step  they  (the  officers)  are  unwilling  tc 
take,  but  is  such,  as  I  make  no  doubt,  they  will  all  take.  Noth- 
ing but  necessity,  their  not  being  able  to  support  themselves  in 
time  to  come,  and  being  loaded  with  debts  contracted  in  time 
past,  would  have  induced  them  to  resign  at  so  critical  a  juncture." 

The  officers,  while  awaiting  a  reply  from  the  authorities 
continued  making  preparations  for  obeying  the  orders  to  march 
away  to  battle,  and  declared  they  would  continue  on  duty  until  a 
reasonable  time  after  the  appointment  of  their  successors  should 
elapse. 

The  paper  currency  had  depreciated  to  such  an  extent  that 
it  had  but  little  value.  It  was  scarcely  worth  accepting.  The 
officers,  in  rags,  were  ashamed  to  appear  at  social  gatherings 
arranged  in  their  honor,  and  actually  suffered  for  the  want  of 
proper  food  because  of  their  inability  to  make  needed  purchases 

Washington,  who  knew  of  the  distress  of  the  officers,  and 
deeply  sympathized  with  them,  repeatedly  urged  upon  Congress 
the  necessity  of  making  some  general  and  adequate  provisions 
for  them.  At  one  time,  Washington  wrote  Congress  that  the 
distress  in  some  of  the  corps  "is  so  great  that  officers  have 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  69 

solicited  even  to  be  supplied  with  the  clothing  issued  to  the  com- 
mon soldier,  coarse  and  unsuitable  as  it  is.  1  had  not  power  to 
comply  with  the  request.  The  patience  of  men  animated  by  a 
sense  of  duty  and  honor  will  support  them  to  a  certain  point, 
beyond  which  it  will  not  go.  I  doubt  not  Congress  will  be  sensi- 
ble of  the  danger  of  an  extreme  in  this  respect,  and  will  pardon 
my  anxiety  to  obviate  it." 

The  remonstrance  and  letter  of  General  Maxwell  had  the 
effect  of  bringing  the  lawmakers  to  a  realizing  sense  of  their  duty, 
and  they  at  once  authorized  a  commissioner  to  furnish  the  officers 
with  clothing  to  the  amount  of  two  hundred  pounds,  and  to  pay 
each  soldier  in  the  brigade  the  sum  of  forty  dollars  each.  This 
action  removed  the  only  obstacle  to  the  forward  movement  of 
the  brigade. 

Washington,  who  was  strongly  attached  to  the  army,  knew 
the  virtue  of  the  men,  their  sufferings,  and  the  justice  of  their 
complaints,  wrote  the  following  letter  to  General  Maxwell,  tc 
be  laid  before  the  officers: 

"There  is  nothing  which  has  happened  in  the  course  of  the 
war  that  has  given  me  so  much  pain  as  the  remonstrance  you 
mention  from  the  officers  of  the  First  Jersey  Regiment. 

"I  cannot  but  consider  it  a  hasty  and  imprudent  step,  which 
on  more  cool  consideration  they  will  themselves  condemn.  I 
am  very  sensible  of  the  inconveniences  under  which  the  officers 
of  the  army  labor,  and  I  hope  they  will  do  me  the  justice  to  believe 
that  my  endeavors  to  provide  them  relief  are  incessant.  There 
is  more  difficulty,  however,  in  satisfying  their  wishes  than  per- 
haps they  are  aware  of.  Our  resources  have  been  hitherto  very 
limited.  The  situation  of  our  money  is  no  small  embarrassment, 
for  which,  though  there  are  remedies,  they  cannot  be  the  work 
of  a  moment. 

"*  *  *  I  confess  the  appearances  in  the  present  instance 
are  disagreeable;  but  I  am  convinced  they  seem  to  mean  more 
than  they  really  do.  The  Jersey  officers  have  not  been  outdone 
by  any  others  in  the  qualities  either  of  citizens  or  soldiers,  and  I 
am  confident  no  part  of  them  would  seriously  intend  anything 
that  would  be  a  strain  on  their  former  reputation. 

"The  declaration  they  have  made  to  the  state  at  so  critical 
a  time,  that  'unless  they  obtain  relief  in  the  short  period  of  three 
days  they  must  be  considered  out  of  the  service/  has  very  much 
the  aspect  of  appearing  to  dictate  terms  to  their  country,  by  tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  necessity  of  the  moment,  and  the  seeming 
relaxation  of  continuing  until  the  state  can  have  a  reasonable 


70  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

time  to  provide  other  officers,  will  be  thought  only  a  superficial 
veil." 

This  letter  of  the  commander-in-chief,  although  it  did  not 
cause  the  officers  to  recede  from  their  claims,  had  the  effect  of 
bringing  them  so  far  round  as  to  continue  in  the  service.  In 
an  address  to  Washington  they  declared  their  unhappiness  that 
"any  step  of  ours  should  give  him  pain,"  but  alleged,  in  justifica- 
tion of  their  action  that  repeated  memorials  which  had  been  pre- 
sented to  the  legislature  had  been  ignored,  and  added : 

"We  have  lost  all  confidence  in  that  body.  Reason  and  ex- 
perience forbid  that  we  should  have  any.  Few  of  us  have  pri- 
vate fortunes;  many  families  are  suffering  everything  that  can 
be  received  from  an  ungrateful  country.  Are  we,  then,  to  suffer 
all  the  inconveniences,  fatigues  and  dangers  of  a  military  life, 
while  our  wives  and  our  children  are  perishing  for  want  of 
common  necessaries  at  home,  and  that  without  the  most  dis- 
tant prospect  of  reward,  for  our  pay  is  now  only  nominal  ? 

"We  are  sensible  that  your  excellency  cannot  wish  or  desire 
this  from  us. 

"We  are  sorry  that  you  should  imagine  we  meant  to  dis- 
obey orders.  It  was,  and  still  is,  our  determination  to  march 
with  our  regiment,  and  to  do  the  duty  of  officers  until  the  legis- 
lature shall  have  a  reasonable  time  to  appoint  others,  but  no 
longer. 

"We  beg  to  assure  your  excellency  that  we  have  the  highest 
sense  of  your  abilities  and  virtues ;  that  executing  your  orders  has 
ever  given  us  pleasure;  that  we  love  the  service,  and  we  love 
our  country,  but  when  that  country  is  so  lost  to  virtue  and  to 
justice  as  to  forget  to  support  its  servants,  it  then  becomes  their 
duty  to  retire  from  its  service." 

The  legislature,  roused  by  this  event,  made  some  partial 
provision  for  the  troops.  The  officers  withdrew  their  remon- 
strance, and  continued  to  do  their  whole  duty  until  victory  was 
won — until  the  war  ended  in  1783. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS. 


SECOND  MUTINY  OF  JERSEY  BRIGADE. 

THE  condition  of  the  Jersey  brigade  continued  deplorable. 
The  officers,  in  rags,  were  so  much  ashamed  of  their  uni- 
forms, that  they  refused  to  attend  social  gatherings.  They 
not  only  lacked  clothing,  but  suffered  for  the  want  of  food;  in 
fact,  many  of  the  officers,  like  their  families  at  home,  were  in  a 
starving  condition. 

While  the  officers  were  thus  reduced,  owing  to  the  inability 
of  the  legislature  to  keep  its  obligations,  the  condition  of  the  rank 
and  file  was  a  thousand  times  worse.  The  enlisted  men  suffered 
so  much  for  the  want  of  the  actual  necessities  of  life  that  they 
became  unfit  for  active  duty.  Scarcely  one  of  the  men  had  shoes, 
and  most  of  them  went  about  camp  with  their  feet  bandaged  in 
rags.  Their  nakedness,  unhealthy  food  and  want  of  sustenance 
filled  the  hospitals,  causing  many  deaths. 

On  the  first  of  January,  1781,  thirteen  hundred  Pennsylvania 
troops,  encamped  near  Princeton,  paraded  without  officers,  de- 
claring their  intention  of  returning  home.  Their  contention  was 
that  the  term  for  which  they  had  enlisted — three  years,  or  dur- 
ing the  war — had  expired.  The  officers  insisted  that  the  mean- 
ing of  the  agreement  was  that  they  were  to  serve  to  the  end  of 
the  war. 

The  enlisted  men  took  a  contrary  view,  maintaining  that 
they  had  engaged  to  serve  for  three  years  only,  or  during  the 
war,  if  it  should  terminate  before  three  years  should  elapse. 

The  Pennsylvanians,  determined  to  obtain  a  redress  of  their 
grievances,  seized  upon  a  battery  of  six  field  pieces,  and  at  once 
left  camp  for  Princeton,  where  the  legislature  was  in  session. 

General  Anthony  Wayne,  a  Pennsylvanian,  in  command  of 
the  brigade,  hearing  of  the  revolt,  mounted  his  horse  and  over- 
took the  mutineers,  whom  he  commanded  to  halt.  The  men 
refused  to  obey  his  orders,  and  wild  with  passion,  the  hero  of 
Stony  Point  placed  himself  in  front  of  the  column,  and  cocking 
his  two  big  horse  pistols,  and  pointing  them  at  the  breasts  of  two 
of  the  most  active  malcontents,  threatened  to  fire  unless  they 
countermarched  to  camp. 

"Don't  fire,  general,  or  you  are  a  dead  man,"  shouted  those 
nearest  to  him.  "We  have  ever  loved  and  followed  you,  but  can 
do  so  no  longer.  We  have  been  deceived  by  the  authorities,  and 
will  not  submit  to  further  impositions.  We  are  not  going  over 
to  the  enemy;  on  the  contrary,  were  the  British  to  appear  now 


72  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

we  would  fight  under  your  command  with  as  much  resolution 
and  cheerfulness  as  ever;  but  we  wish  to  redress  our  grievances 
and  this  is  the  time  to  do  so." 

General  Wayne,  who  loved  his  men,  seeing  that  coercion 
would  fail,  appealed  to  the  patriotism  of  the  men,  who  consented 
to  put  their  demands  in  writing.  They  demanded  an  honorable 
discharge  of  all  who  had  served  three  years,  immediate  payment 
of  all  the  money  due  them,  and  that  all  future  pay  should  be 
made  in  real  money  to  all  who  remained  in  the  service. 

A  committee  of  congressmen,  joined  by  the  governor  of 
Pennsylvania,  visited  the  camp  of  the  Pennsylvanians,  and  made 
an  acceptable  arrangement  with  them. 

Washington,  on  learning  of  the  revolt,  took  steps  to  quell 
any  further  disturbance.  He  knew  the  troops  had  cause  for  dis- 
content, and  was  disposed  to  deal  as  leniently  as  possible  with 
men  who  felt  themselves  driven  to  extremity,  but  he  could  not 
allow  further  outbreaks,  and  with  this  in  view,  selected  a  choice 
body  of  troops,  which  he  held  in  readiness  in  the  Short  Hills  tc 
march  at  any  moment. 

This  precaution  on  the  the  part  of  the  commander-in-chief 
was  timely,  as  a  few  days  later  a  portion  of  the  Jersey  brigade 
encamped  near  Elizabethtown,  rose  in  arms  and  boldly  demanded 
the  terms  granted  to  the  dissatisfied  Pennsylvanians. 

Washington,  who  feared  this  disruption  might  lead  to  the 
destruction  or  disbandment  of  his  greatly  reduced  army,  imme- 
diately dispatched  General  Howe,  with  his  chosen  command,  in 
pursuit  of  the  Jerseymen,  with  orders  to  crush  the  revolt  by 
force,  unless  the  mutineers  should  at  once  yield  unconditionally 
and  return  to  duty. 

General  Howe  speedily  overtook  the  malcontents,  and  threat- 
ening to  open  upon  them  with  artillery,  brought  them  into  sub- 
mission. They  had  no  alternative,  so  yielded  without  terms. 
Two  of  the  ring-leaders  were  tried  by  drum-head  court-martial, 
and  promptly  executed  in  the  presence  of  all  the  troops. 

This  ended  the  revolt  of  the  Jersey  brigade. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  73 


ASSASSINATION  OF  CHAPLAIN  CALDWELL. 

THE  foul  and  utterly  unprovoked  murder  of  Rev.  James  Cald- 
well,  the  most  noted  preacher-patriot  in  America  during 
the  revolutionary  war,  occurred  on  the  wharf  at  what  is 
now  the  foot  of  Elizabeth  Avenue,  Elizabethtown,  on  Saturday 
afternoon,  November  24,  1781,  but  little  more  than  one  year  after 
his  angelic  wife  had  been  slain  by  a  ruthless  British  soldier  at 
Connecticut  Farms,  now  the  village  of  Union. 

James  Caldwell  was  born  in  Virginia  in  April,  1734,  his 
father,  of  Scotch  ancestry,  having  emigrated  to  this  country 
from  County  Antrim,  Ireland.  A  daughter  of  Caldwell's  brother 
was  the  mother  of  John  Caldwell  Calhoun,  South  Carolina's 
famous  statesman. 

Young  Caldwell  graduated  from  the  College  of  New  Jersey 
(now  Princeton  University)  in  September,  1759,  and  next  year 
was  licensed  to  preach,  being  assigned  a  circuit  in  the  southern 
states,  including  the  Carolinas.  In  November,  1761,  at  the  age 
of  27  years,  he  accepted  the  pastorate  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  in  Elizabethtown,  with  an  annual  salary  of  $800.  One 
year  after  settling  there  he  married  Hannah,  daughter  of  John 
Ogden,  great-grandson  of  John  Ogden,  one  of  the  first  settlers. 

When  the  war  for  liberty  and  independence  was  precipitated. 
Parson  Caldwell  took  a  leading  part  in  arousing  people  to  a 
sense  of  duty,  and  in  all  his  prayers,  and  often  in  his  sermons  and 
exhortations,  called  upon  the  people  to  rise  and  strike  a  blow 
that  would  make  them  freemen.  The  most  prominent  men  in 
the  state  lived  in  Elizabethtown  and  attended  service  at  the  First 
Church,  and  the  seed  he  implanted  by  his  fervor  and  eloquence 
fell  upon  good  ground,  producing  most  excellent  results. 

From  among  his  parishioners  went  forth  to  the  patriot  army 
no  less  than  40  commissioned  officers,  six  of  whom  attained  the 
rank  of  general ;  5  became  colonels. 

In  May,  1776,  Mr.  Caldwell  accepted  the  chaplaincy  of 
Colonel  Elias  Dayton's  Third  Regiment,  and  accompanied 
the  command  on  its  long  and  trying  march  to  reinforce  the 
northern  army,  then  besieging  Quebec. 

Besides  attending  to  the  spiritual  wants  of  the  men  of  the 
entire  Jersey  brigade,  which  he  never  neglected,  Parson  Caldwell 
was  frequently  called  upon  to  act  as  assistant  commissary  general 
of  the  brigade.  The  duties  of  this  office  were  to  provide  the 
men  with  food — no  easy  task  in  those  days. 


74  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

With  one  exception — Governor  Livingston,  one  of  his  con- 
gregation— Parson  Caldwell  was  more  bitterly  hated  by  the  Bri- 
tish and  their  tory  allies  than  any  man  in  New  Jersey.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  was  loved  by  all  soldiers  and  patriots  with  whom 
he  came  in  personal  or  official  contact,  and  enjoyed  the  fullest 
respect  and  confidence  of  all  the  officers,  from  Washington  down. 

Chaplain  Caldwell  was  noted  for  bravery  and  zeal  as  well  as 
piety,  and  never  hesitated  in  the  performance  of  any  duty.  At 
the  battle  of  Springfield,  June  23,  1780,  16  days  after  the  cold- 
blooded murder  of  the  mother  of  his  children  by  a  fiendish  British 
soldier,  learning  that  the  soldiers  of  his  regiment  needed  wadding 
for  their  muskets,  he  made  his  way  through  a  line  of  the  enemy's 
fire  to  the  church  in  the  village  beyond,  and  thinking  of  nothing 
better  or  more  available  entered  the  sanctuary  and  gathering  a 
number  of  hymn-books,  hastened  back  to  the  firing-line,  and 
distributing  the  little  volumes,  bade  the  boys  "Give  them  Watts." 
If  he  intended  any  stronger  expression  under  the  circumstances, 
as  he  very  likely  did,  he  restrained  it. 

It  is  sad  to  relate  the  fate  that  befell  this  sterling  patriot 
and  eloquent  Christian  minister,  just  at  a  time  when  he  had  every 
reason  to  look  forward  to  a  long  and  happy  life,  the  war  being 
virtually  over. 

On  the  afternoon  of  Saturday,  November  24,  1781,  Chaplain 
Caldwell  drove  down  to  the  "Point,"  as  the  lower  part  of  the 
town  was  then  called,  to  meet  Beulah  Murray,  sister  of  Mrs. 
Ichabod  Barnet,  and  escort  her  to  the  latter's  home.  Miss  Mur- 
ray came  over  from  New  York  on  the  flag-of -truce  boat,  which 
plied  between  the  two  places.  The  vessel  having  reached  the 
wharf  before  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Caldwell  at  the  station,  the  young 
woman  disembarked  and  securing  a  conveyance,  proceeded  on^ 
her  way. 

Major  John  Scudder,  commanding  the  provost-guard  at  the 
ferry,  who  was  on  the  sloop  when  the  chaplain  reached  the  dock 
being  weil  acquainted  with  the  latter,  invited  him  to  board  the 
vessel.  Mr.  Caldwell,  supposing  Miss  Murray  to  be  on  the  craft, 
stepped  on  the  dock  to  greet  her,  but  on  learning  the  young  lady 
had  taken  her  departure,  excused  himself  to  the  major,  and  was 
in  the  act  of  leaving  the  vessel  when  one  of  the  sailors  asked  hirr 
to  take  a  small  parcel,  tied  in  a  handkerchief,  to  a  friend  in  town. 
The  kind-hearted  parson,  whose  chief  happiness  was  in  doing 
good  and  making  other  people  happy,  said  it  would  be  a  pleasure 
to  deliver  the  package  as  requested,  and  receiving  the  sailor's 
thanks  for  the  kindness,  descended  from  the  sloop's  deck  to  the 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  75 

wharf,  and,  reaching  his  vehicle,  was  in  the  act  of  driving  away, 
when  a  soldier  named  James  Morgan  stepped  up  to  him  and 
rudely  said :  "I  want  to  see  what  ye  have  got  in  that  bundle." 

Mr.  Caldwell,  not  liking  the  soldier's  looks  or  his  language, 
and  having  no  disposition  to  bandy  words  with  the  fellow,  asked 
if  he  might  be  permitted  to  return  the  bundle  to  the  person  from 
whom  he  had  received  it. 

Morgan,  in  a  husky  voice,  gave  his  consent,  whereupon  the 
chaplain  took  the  package  from  the  box  in  the  buggy,  and  was 
proceeding  to  the  boat  when  Morgan,  with  musket  raised,  ran  up 
to  within  two  or  three  yards  of  him  and  fiercely  yelled,  "Damn 
you,  stop." 

Parson  Caldwell,  surprised  at  the  rude  demand,  instantly 
halted,  and  before  he  could  turn  his  face  to  see  what  the  demand 
meant,  Morgan  leveled  his  weapon  to  point  blank,  and  sent  a 
bullet  crashing  through  the  parson's  body.  He  expired  instantly. 

The  murderer  was  at  once  secured  by  Lieutenant  Woodruff 
who  happened  to  be  near  at  the  moment.  The  body  of  the  dead 
chaplain  was  tenderly  removed  to  the  public  hostelry  (where 
afterwards  stood  the  "Red  Jacket"  Hotel,  Elizabeth  Avenue  and 
South  Front  Street),  and  late  in  the  afternoon  was  brought  up 
town,  a  mournful  procession  following  the  rude  ambulance  up 
First  Avenue,  Elizabeth  Avenue,  Broad  Street,  and  down  East 
Jersey  Street  to  the  large  building  now  known  as  the  Old  Ladies' 
Home. 

Next  day  was  the  saddest  Sunday  the  people  of  the  town 
ever  experienced,  all  hearts  appearing  to  be  crushed  under  the 
awful  calamity. 

The  entire  population,  without  regard  to  creed,  color  or  con- 
dition, assembled  on  Tuesday  to  pay  the  last  tribute  to  the  mar- 
tyred patriot,  whose  mortality  was  exposed  to  view  on  the  lawn 
in  front  of  the  mansion.  Strong-minded  men  wept  in  their  deep 
sorrow,  while  the  air  was  rent  with  the  wailing  of  tear-bedimmed 
women. 

At '  the  conclusion  of  the  sad  but  impressive  service,  per- 
formed by  Rev.  Dr.  McWhorter,  of  Newark,  an  intimate  friend  of 
the  late  chaplain,  the  plain  wooden  coffin  was  closed,  and  General 
Elias  Boudinot  stepped  forward,  leading  the  nine  orphan  children 
of  the  deceased,  and  after  causing  them  to  surround  the  silent 
dead,  delivered  an  oration  of  sublime  eloquence. 

A  procession  was  then  formed,  the  mournful  cortege  moving 
slowly  up  Jersey  Street  and  down  Broad  to  the  First  Church 
where  all  that  was  mortal  of  Chaplain  Caldwell  was  laid  at  rest 


76  HISTORICAL   SKETCHES   OF   THE 

beside  his  sainted  wife,  amid  tears  of  the  surrounding  multitude. 

What  induced  Morgan  to  commit  the  foul  and  unnatural 
crime  was  never  ascertained.  At  his  trial  in  Westfield,  January 
21,  1782,  two  months  after  the  murder,  he  sturdily  maintained 
stoical  indifference,  even  refusing  to  confer  with  his  counsel. 
Captain  William  De  Hart,  who  had  been  assigned  to  defend  him 
Morgan  was  found  guilty,  and  eight  days  later  executed  on  a 
tree  on  the  highest  point  of  ground  north  of  the  village.  He 
bore  a  bad  reputation,  and  was  noted  for  his  quarrelsome  dispo- 
sition. He  had  joined  the  army  but  a  few  weeks  previous  to 
his  crime,  and  shirked  all  the  duty  possible.  The  New  Jersey 
Journal,  four  days  after  the  murder,  stated  that  "Morgan  had 
been  to  New  York  City  without  leave  a  fortnight  before  the 
assassination,  and  there  are  just  grounds  for  suspecting  that  he 
had  been  bribed  by  the  British  or  the  tories  of  that  city,  which 
was  never  patriotic,  to  commit  the  abominable  crime." 

Morgan  was  22  years  old  and  unmarried.  His  body  was 
allowed  to  swing  upon  the  tree  until  midnight,  when  Sheriff 
Noah  Marsh  and  two  assistants  (sworn  to  secrecy)  buried  it 
deep,  but  just  where  was  never  revealed. 


MURDER  OF  THE  SAINTED  MRS.  CALDWELL. 

1COPY  from  the  New  Jersey  Gazette  (the  first  paper  estab- 
lished in  this  state),  printed  at  Burlington,  the  following 

interesting  particulars  relating  to  Knyphausen's  bloody  raid 
on  the  seventh  of  June,  1780,  to  Connecticut  Farms,  the  cruel 
murder  of  the  angelic  Mrs.  Caldwell,  the  burning  of  her  home, 
her  rude  burial,  the  battle  that  ensued,  the  burning  of  the  village, 
and  the  hasty  and  disorderly  retreat  of  the  enemy  back  to  this 
town,  the  most  lucid  and  detailed  account  of  the  affair  I  have 
ever  seen  in  print: 

"(Extract  of  letter  from  an  intelligent  gentleman  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Morristown,  June  9,  1780) : 

"Although  extremely  fatigued  I  catch  a  moment  to  inform 
you  that  I  have  just  returned  from  Elizabethtown,  where  I  have 
been  reconnoitering  the  enemy's  situation  and  strength. 

"To  give  you  any  tolerable  idea  of  their  ravages  and  cruelty 
is  beyond  my  descriptive  abilities.  They  came  out  in  force  on 
Tuesday  night  and  Wednesday  morning,  and  landed  in  Elizabeth 
before  day.  Most  observers  differ  in  their  account  of  their 
numbers.  From  my  own  observations  I  suppose  them  about 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  77 

5,000,  with  17  pieces  of  artillery,  and  every  preparation  for  a. 
lengthy  march. 

"They  advanced  to  Connecticut  Farms,  about  five  miles  dis- 
tant, very  early  in  the  morning  of  Wednesday,  and  altho'  they 
observed  great  discipline  and  decorum  in  Elizabethtown,  yet  at 
the  Farms  every  step  was  marked  with  wanton  cruelty  and  cause- 
less devastation.  They  set  fire  to  and  entirely  destroyed  the 
Presbyterian  Church  and  fourteen  dwelling  houses  and  barns,  so 
that  there  are  (I  think)  but  two  dwelling  houses  remaining  in- 
that  fertile  settlement.  But,  alas  sir,  this  is  only  one  part  of  the 
horrid  scene! 

"In  this  neighborhood  lived  the  Rev.  James  Caldwell,  whose 
zeal  and  activity  in  the  cause  of  his  country  had  rendered  him  an 
object  worthy  of  the  enemy's  keenest  resentment. 

"His  vigilance  and  attention  had  always  evaded  every  at- 
tempt to  injure  him,  and  therefore  it  was  now  determined  to 
wound  him  in  an  unguarded  spot ;  following  the  absurd  principles 
of  too  many  of  our  incautious  countrymen,  he  left  his  wife  and 
family  at  home,  trusting  to  the  politeness  and  humanity  of  the- 
enemy  toward  an  amiable  woman  and  a  number  of  helpless  and 
innocent  children,  tho'  he  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  trust  them 
with  his  own  safety.  He  had  been  warned  of  their  utmost  hatred 
to  him,  and  therefore  dissuaded  him  from  leaving  his  family  in 
their  power ;  but,  alas,  his  confidence  in  their  benevolence  towards 
the  helpless  has  been  his  destruction. 

"Soon  after  possessing  themselves  of  the  neighborhood,  a 
soldier  came  to  the  house,  and  putting  his  gun  to  the  window  of 
the  room  where  this  worthy  woman  was  sitting  (with  her  children 
and  a  maid  with  an  infant  in  her  arms  alongside  of  her),  he  shot 
her  through  the  lungs  dead  on  the  spot.  Soon  after  an  officer 
and  two  Hessians  came  in  and  ordered  a  hole  dug  and  her  body 
thrown  in,  and  the  house  to  be  set  on  fire. 

"At  the  request  of  an  officer  of  the  new  levies,  and  with 
some  difficulty,  the  body  was  suffered  to  be  carried  to  a  small 
house  in  the  neighborhood,  and  Mr.  Caldwell's  dwelling  house 
immediately  set  on  fire,  and  everything  belonging  to  him  con- 
sumed together.  The  only  comfort  coming  to  this  afflicted  family 
is  that  the  wretch  who  served  as  the  executioner  of  this  murdered 
lady  (who  from  her  excellent  character  deservd  a  better  fate) 
did  his  business  so  effectually  that  she  lost  her  life  without  dis- 
tress or  pain.  Thus  it  is,  that  even  the  tender  mercies  of  the 
wicked  are  cruelty.  This  melancholy  affair,  with  their  cruel  burn- 
ings, has  raised  the  resentment  of  the  whole  country  to  the  high- 


78  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

est  pitch.  They  are  ready  almost  to  swear  an  everlasting  enmity 
to  the  very  name  of  Briton.  So  far  is  this  cruelty  and  devasta- 
tion terrifying  to  submission  that  it  drives  the  most  timid  to  feats 
of  desperate  heroism. 

"A  most  worthy  man,  who  has  for  more  than  four  years  past 
devoted  himself  to  the  service  of  his  country,  is  thus  left  with  nine 
small  children,  destitute  of  even  a  shift  of  clothes  to  comfort 
them.  Many  of  the  inhabitants  are  in  a  similar  situation;  some 
widows,  some  aged,  some  infirm. 

"So  many  have  suffered,  and  are  daily  suffering,  among  us, 
that  it  is  impossible  anything  considerable  can  be  done  for  their 
present  necessities.  Shall  I  beg  in  behalf  of  these  worthy,  tho' 
unfortunate  fellow  citizens,  suffering  in  the  common  cause,  that 
you  will  exert  yourself  among  your  acquaintances  to  afford 
them  so  relief?  The  difficulty  of  obtaining  linen,  clothes,  etc.. 
«tc.,  is  unsurmountable  among  us.  A  small  pittance  saved  from 
your  luxuries  will  rejoice  the  hearts  of  our  desponding  brethren, 
and  engage  others  to  step  forth  with  firmness  to  oppose  the  foes 
of  America  and  mankind. 

"It  moves  the  heart  of  the  brave  and  venturous  citizen  to 
behold  the  piteous,  heart-rending  sufferings  of  the  widows,  chil- 
dren and  dependents  of  those  who  have  nobly  fought  the  battles 
of  our  country,  and  bled  in  her  righteous  cause,  while  those  who 
fly  from  the  appearances  of  danger  are  rioting  on  the  spoils  of 
those  who  bear  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day. 

"I  know  your  generous  heart  will  bear  a  part  with  the  afflic- 
tions of  every  sufferer  in  so  glorious  a  cause,  and  your  benevolent 
hands  will  be  ready  to  exert  themselves  to  obtain  the  relief  that 
may  be  in  your  power. 

"But  to  return :  The  enemy  being  opposed  by  a  regiment  of 
Colonel  Dayton's,  and  such  militia  as  could  be  suddenly  collected 
made  a  slow  advance  till  they  came  to  a  bridge  at  the  entrance 
of  Springfield,  where  the  militia  had  an  old  iron  4-pounder  field- 
piece,  which  they  used  to  such  purpose  that  the  enemy  were 
driven  back  for  some  considerable  distance.  Being  thus  encour- 
aged, Colonel  Dayton's  regiment,  and  the  militia  together,  pressed 
upon  them  and  killed  and  wounded  many  of  them;  the  general 
estimate  is  about  100.  As  our  people  were  reinforced  they 
gained  firmness,  and  at  night  the  enemy  had  reached  no  further 
than  Connecticut  Farms. 

"In  the  night,  having  received  an  express  from  General  Gin- 
ton  in  North  Carolina,  they  immediately  began  a  retreat,  and  by 
ten  o'clock  on  Thursday  they  had  gained  Elizabethtown  Point, 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  79 

from  whence  they  sent  off  all  their  wagons,  a  part  of  their  artil- 
lery and  some  of  their  cavalry.  Previous  to  this,  Lord  Stirling, 
with  General  Hand's  brigade  and  the  militia,  was  detached  close 
on  their  rear,  and  between  Elizabethtown  and  the  Point  had  a 
very  severe  skirmish — some  loss  on  both  sides.  Never  did  trooj;- 
behave  better  than  ours.  The  militia  behaved  beyond  anything 
that  could  have  been  expected.  The  Continental  officers  gave 
them  the  greatest  credit.  It  is  said  the  enemy  had  been  persuaded 
that  after  the  taking  of  Charleston  the  militia  would  submit 
and  the  Continental  troops  would  desert.  It  seems  as  if  the  mili- 
tia had  known  these  suggestions.  Never  did  they  so  Universally 
turn  out  on  such  short  notice,  and  never  with  better  spirits.  I 
left  this  morning  at  least  2,000  of  them  below  the  mountains, 
and  more  flocking  down  continually.  Colonel  Dayton  deserves 
the  greatest  credit,  as  does  all  his  officers,  who  behaved  unex- 
ceptionably. 

"The  enemy  were  all  day  yesterday  manouvering  to  bring 
on  a  general  engagement,  and  General  Washington  trying  to 
draw  them  from  their  possession  on  the  Point,  where  it  was 
impossible  to  attack  them  to  advantage.  Both  have  failed,  and 
General  Washington  hath  drawn  back  the  main  body  of  his  army 
above  Springfield  to  refresh  them,  as  they  were  exceedingly 
fatigued  with  two  days  and  two  nights  lying  on  their  arms. 
Everything  has  been  carried  on  with  great  propriety,  and  we 
are  in  hopes  the  gentry  will  be  obliged  to  retire  notwithstanding 
their  sanguine  expectations.  General  Knyphausen.  it  is  said, 
brought  over  his  carriage,  expecting  to  have  comfortable  use  for 
it.  They  are  in  such  force  that  I  am  clear  of  opinion  they  intended 
to  penetrate  the  country,  and  from  some  hints  they  have  dropped, 
they  have  Pennsylvania  in  their  eye,  if  they  can  beat  General 
Washington. 

"I  would  give  more  particulars,  but  I  am  wearied  beyond 
measure  with  the  fatigue  of  three  days'  ride,  and  no  rest  at  night, 
and  I  write  in  pain. 

"P.  S. — I  forgot  to  mention  a  circumstance  relative  to  Mrs. 
Caldwell's  death  that  is  very  striking.  Some  of  the  soldiers 
attacked  a  young  lady  about  three  miles  from  Mr.  Caldwell's 
home,  and  one  of  them,  presenting  a  fixed  bayonet  at  her  breast, 
swore  he  would  kill  her,  for  that  she  was  the  wife  of  Mr.  Cald- 
well.  He  was  with  difficulty  prevented  from  putting  his  threats 
into  execution  by  a  young  officer  who  knew  the  lady,  and  swore 
to  him  that  she  was  not  the  wife  of  Mr.  Caldwell.  This  was 
previous  to  her  murder.  And  on  their  retreat  from  Connecticut 


80  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF   THE 

Farms,  a  soldier  bragged  at  Elizabethtown  that  he  had  shot  this 
unhappy  lady. 


ATTEMPTED  CAPTURE  OF  BRITISH  CROWN  PRINCE, 

DURING  the  American  Revolution  there  was  no  more  pa- 
triotic or  daring  soldier  in  New  Jersey  than  Colonel 
Matthias  Ogden,  who  had  a  close  rival  in  his  only  brother. 
Colonel  Aaron  Ogden,  after  the  war  governor  and  United 
States  senator.  In  these  days  of  commercialism  and  greed  it 
may  not  be  amiss  to  revert  to  the  days  that  tried  men's  souls 
while  laboring  to  establish  liberty  and  independence  for  the  peo- 
ple of  thio  and  other  lands. 

Colonel  Matthias  Ogden  distinguished  himself  on  many  occa- 
sions during  the  revolution,  but  in  no  instance  did  he  show  greater 
bravery  than  when,  with  a  few  chosen  companions,  he  attempted 
to  capture  the  Crown  Prince  of  England,  afterwards  King  Wil- 
liam IV.,  in  New  York  City.  The  young  man,  a  son  of  George 
III.,  when  fourteen  years  old,  was  appointed  a  midshipman  in 
the  British  navy,  and  to  acquire  knowledge  of  the  sea  and  distant 
lands  accompanied  Admiral  Digby  to  this  country.  Admiral 
Digby's  fleet  reached  New  York  City  in  1779,  and  remained  there 
some  months. 

The  Crown  Prince,  who  was  of  lively  disposition,  and  al- 
lowed to  have  his  own  way  in  pretty  much  everything,  was  ashore 
most  of  the  time,  having  a  good  time  with  boon  companions  of 
both  sexes.  He  went  about  unattended  by  pomp,  display  or 
guard,  and  was  prodigal  in  the  use  of  money,  with  which  he  was 
ever  well  provided. 

Late  in  the  summer  it  occurred  to  Colonel  Ogden  that  it 
might  be  possible  to  effect  the  capture  of  England's  future  ruler, 
and  bring  him  to  New  Jersey  as  a  hostage.  The  British  and  tories 
on  Staten  Island,  having  made  repeated  raids  to  this  town  while 
the  Jersey  brigade  was  absent  in  the  Indian  country  (Wyoming 
Valley)  inflicting  great  damage  to  property  and  carrying  away 
defenceless  citizens  as  prisoners,  among  whom  were  some  friends 
of  Colonel  Ogden,  he  matured  a  plan  for  the  capture  of  the 
Crown  Prince,  and  submitted  it  to  General  Washington,  in  camp 
at  New  Windsor  on  the  Hudson  River. 

"I  do  not  altogether  favor  such  a  mode  of  warfare,"  said 
Washington,  after  hearing  Colonel  Ogden  reveal  his  intentions, 
"but  it  will  give  you  a  little  diversion  and  may  prove  of  some 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  81 

value  to  the  cause.  You  have  my  permission  to  engage  in  the 
enterprise,  but  if  you  succeed  in  capturing  the  young  man  you 
must  treat  him  with  all  the  deference  due  his  great  rank.  I  can- 
not but  impress  upon  you  the  necessity  of  extreme  caution  if  you 
would  escape  the  fate  of  Nathan  Hale." 

Armed  with  this  permission  and  overjoyed  at  the  result  of 
his  interview  with  the  commander-in-chief,  Colonel  Ogden  made 
his  way  back  to  this  town,  and  at  once  selected  the  men  who  were 
to  compose  the  expedition. 

Colonel  Ogden  picked  four  men  from  his  regiment  who  had 
often  gone  through  fire  with  him,  and  on  whom  he  could  place 
the  utmost  dependence,  and  early  in  the  fall  made  his  way  to 
Paulus  Hook  (now  Jersey  City),  where  a  skiff,  admirably  suited 
to  his  purpose,  was  found  and  appropriated.  The  weather  con- 
ditions postponing  the  crossing  of  the  Hudson  for  two  nights,  a 
start  was  finally  made.  Evading  vessels  lying  at  anchor,  Colonel 
Ogden  and  his  little  party  had  nearly  reached  the  New  York  side, 
and  were  congratulating  themselves  on  the  almost  absolute  cer- 
tainty of  success,  when  they  were  suddenly  hailed  from  a  large 
launch  filled  with  soldiers  in  the  act  of  putting  off  from  a  dock 
near  the  Battery. 

Taken  thus  wholly  unawares,  and  unprepared  to  return  a 
satisfactory  answer  to  the  challenge,  Colonel  Ogden  quickly 
sheered  off  and  rowed  up  the  river  on  a  flood  tide,  a  shower  of 
leaden  messengers  following.  Finding  himself  pursued,  Colonel 
Ogden,  at  the  tiller,  encouraged  his  crew  to  make  every  exertion 
to  outdistance  those  in  pursuit  if  they  would  not  "have  hemp 
for  breakfast."  The  colonel,  as  his  craft  proceeded  up  the  river, 
looked  everywhere  along  the  shore  for  a  safe  place  of  refuge,  and 
finding  none  owing  to  the  alarm  that  had  been  given  when  first 
discovered,  headed  his  boat  for  the  Jersey  shore,  and  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  reaching  the  ground  now  occupied  by  the  city  of  Ho- 
boken,  where  he  and  his  men  landed  safely  under  a  fire  which 
the  American  outpost  there  directed  against  the  approaching 
British  boats  that  had  closely  followed  in  pursuit. 

Colonel  Ogden's  spirited  adventure  formed  an  interesting 
theme  in  camp  and  bivouac  for  months  afterwards,  some  joking 
at  the  expense  of  the  colonel  being  indulged  in. 

When  intelligence  of  Colonel  Ogden's  undertaking  reached 
the  notorious  Hetfield  brothers  (natives  of  Elizabethtown,  but  for 
several  years  past  refugees  on  Staten  Island),  they  declared 
they  would  return  the  American  colonel's  compliment  by  captur- 
ing him  at  the  first  opportunity.  Those  who  knew  the  character 


S2  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

and  desperate  daring  of  the  Hetfields  had  no  doubt  they  would 
carry  out  their  intention.  The  Hetfields  possessed  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  topography  of  this  section  and  knew  every  nook 
and  crook,  as  well  as  every  family  in  what  is  now  circumscribed 
by  the  bounds  of  Union  County.  The  night  set  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  their  fell  purpose — Saturday,  November  4,  1780 — 
having  rolled  round,  the  Hetfields  and  other  wild  and  adventurous 
spirits  crossed  the  sound  from  Staten  Island,  and  procuring  horses 
on  this  side,  dashed  into  this  town  and  reached  the  homes  of 
Colonel  Ogden  and  Captain  Jonathan  Dayton  before  an  alarm 
could  be  raised. 

Foiled  by  the  absence  of  the  two  officers  from  their  homes 
that  night,  the  Hetfields  learned  they  were  at  the  home  of  William 
Herd,  at  Connecticut  Farms,  and  at  once  proceeded  thither  with 
all  possible  speed,  fearing  their  retreat  would  be  cut  off.  The 
raiders,  on  reaching  Mr.  Herd's,  surrounded  his  house,  and 
bursting  in  the  doors,  demanded  the  surrender  of  its  inmates. 
Resistance  under  such  circumstances  being  futile,  Ogden  and 
Dayton,  thus  ruthlessly  awaken  from  sleep,  gave  up.  Allowed  to 
make  their  toilet,  they  were  bound  and  gagged,  and  then  com- 
pelled to  see  the  raiders  partake  of  a  repast  which  they  compelled 
Mrs.  Herd  to  provide  for  them.  The  good  woman  consumed  as 
much  time  as  possible  in  preparing  savory  dishes,  hoping  mean- 
time for  the  arrival  of  a  rescue  party,  which,  however,  failed  to 
materialize,  much  as  it  was  desired. 

The  raiders  had  great  sport  in  compelling  "Pomp,"  an  aged 
slave,  to  serve  them  with  apple  whisky  of  delightful  flavor,  on 
which  Mr.  Herd  and  his  friends  often  doted.  Having  thus  re- 
freshed themselves,  and  accomplished  the  object  of  their  under- 
taking, the  raiders  seized  two  of  Mr.  Herd's  best  horses,  on 
which  they  mounted  the  two  prisoners,  then  set  out  on  their  home- 
ward journey,  via  Galloping  Hill,  reaching  the  sound  near  Trem- 
ley  at  daybreak  and  crossing  the  water  in  safety. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  General  Ogden,  on  the  recommen- 
dation of  Washington  to  Congress,  was  sent  to  the  court  of  St. 
James  with  important  communications.  He  died  in  Elizabeth  at 
the  early  age  of  thirty-six  years. 

He  sleeps  beside  the  entombed  mortality  of  his  brother. 
Colonel  Aaron  Ogden,  Colonel  Francis  Barber,  General  Dayton 
and  other  immortals. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  83 

SANS  PEUR  ET  SANS  REPROCHE. 

I  HAVE  no  intention  in  this  sketch  of  one  of  New  Jersey's  fore- 
most and  brilliant  soldiers  of  the  American  Revolution  to 

bore  the  reader  with  prosy  history,  but  simply  to  narrate 
exciting-  incidents  in  the  career  of  Lieutenant  Colonel  Francis 
Barber,  of  Elizabethtown,  who  was  throughout  the  contest  very 
close  to  Washington,  serving  at  times  upon  his  military  staff. 
Some  of  the  incidents  narrated  to  me  by  Mrs.  Mary  Chetwood, 
of  Elizabeth,  a  granddaughter  of  Colonel  Barber,  and  Colonel 
Aaron  Ogden,  have  .never  before  found  their  way  in  print. 

Elizabethtown,  during  the  war  for  independence  and  liberty: 
was  celebrated  for  the  patriotism,  culture  and  wealth  of  its  peo- 
ple, as  well  as  for  the  number  of  its  citizens  distinguished  on 
forum  and  in  the  field.  Among  the  famous  men  of  the  country 
at  that  time  was  Francis  Barber,  who,  at  the  age  of  18  years, 
was  placed  in  charge  of  the  only  grammar  school  in  the  colony 
having  as  pupils  young  men  who  shortly  after  rose  to  national 
prominence.  Among  Mr.  Barber's  scholars  was  Alexander  Ham- 
ilton, of  illegitimate  parentage,  and  a  native  of  an  island  in  the 
West  Indies,  who,  at  the  age  of  14  years,  landed  in  New  York 
City.  It  was  at  Mr.  Barber's  school  that  young  Hamilton  first 
met  the  brilliant  and  patriotic  Aaron  Burr,  of  Newark,  for  whom 
he  conceived  a  bitter  dislike. 

Francis  Barber  cast  books  and  ferule  aside  on  learning  of 
the  shot  at  Lexington,  whose  reverberations  went  rolling  around 
the  world,  and  promptly  devoted  himself  to  the  enrollment  of 
his  neighbors  and  friends  to  resist  to  the  death  the  aggressions  of 
the  Briton. 

Young  Barber,  actuated  by  the  holiest  of  motives,  and  a  sin- 
cere desire  to  serve  his  bleeding  country,  made  numerous  ad- 
dresses in  and  about  his  home,  his  eloquent  words  stirring  his 
hearers  to  profound  depths  of  patriotism  and  effort.  A  regiment, 
quickly  organized  in  the  town,  was  not  called  for  by  Congress 
for  active  service  until  the  latter  part  of  1775.  Young  Barber, 
a  first  lieutenant  in  the  First  Regiment,  was  one  of  the  small 
party  of  hardy  young  men  belonging  to  that  command  that  went 
in  boats  from  Elizabethtown  to  Amboy,  to  capture  the  Blue 
Mountain  Valley,  a  large  British  supply  ship  from  London  on 
its  way  to  Boston,  but  which,  owing  to  a  storm  in  January,  1776, 
had  been  compelled  to  put  into  Prince's  Bay  for  safety.  The 
capture  of  the  vessel,  which  was  a  valuable  possession,  produced 
great  excitement  wherever  the  news  was  spread. 


84  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES   OF   THE 

In  March,  1776,  Congress  appointed  Lieutenant  Barber  ma- 
jor of  the  Third  Regiment,  and  later  on  he  was  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  lieutenant-colonel,  the  highest  grade  he  reached. 

Colonel  Barber's  knowledge  of  military  affairs,  quickly  ac- 
quired, together  with  the  dashing  bravery  he  displayed  in  numer- 
ous engagements  from  Brandywine  to  Yorktown,  where  General 
Lafayette  (on  whose  staff  he  was  serving)  exchanged  swords 
with  him,  won  for  him  the  cheerful  obedience  and  admiration  of 
his  troops,  as  well  as  the  confidence  of  his  superiors,  who  on 
more  than  one  occasion  commended  his  gallantry. 

Colonel  Barber  was  desperately  wounded  on  three  distinct 
occasions — Monmouth,  Newton  and  Yorktown — in  each  of  which 
he  exhibited  the  rarest  heroism.  It  was  at  Brandywine,  while 
fiercely  striving  to  save  from  capture  the  six  beautiful  guns 
taken  by  Washington  from  the  Hessians  at  Trenton,  that  Colonel 
Barber  established  a  reputation  for  fearlessness  that  gained  for 
him  encomiums  from  the  commander-in-chief,  under  whose  eyes 
he  performed  prodigies  of  valor. 

But  it  was  at  Monmouth,  one  of  New  Jersey's  most  note- 
worthy battlefields  (where  Colonel  Barber  acted  as  aide-de-camp 
to  Washington),  while  leading  a  charge  at  a  critical  moment, 
that  he  delivered  a  shock  to  the  trained  British  host  that  was  like 
a  falling  mountain.  Amid  the  roar  of  artillery  and  volleys  of 
small  arms,  Colonel  Barber's  plume,  like  that  of  the  Knight  of 
Navarre,  glared  everywhere  through  the  smoke  of  battle.  He 
raged  that  hot  day  in  June  like  an  unloosed  lion,  amid  the  foe,  and 
his  bright  eyes,  always  terrible  in  battle,  burned  with  increased 
lustre,  while  his  clarion  voice,  heard  above  the  awful  turmoil  of 
battle  strife,  was  worth  more  than  a  hundred  trumpets  to  cheer 
on  his  faithful  and  enthusiastic  followers.  Colonel  Barber  was 
a  thunderbolt  in  battle,  and  the  deeds  wrought  by  him  during 
the  long  seven  years  of  active  service  might  well  furnish  themes 
for  the  poet  and  the  painter. 

"It  was  an  inspiring  sight,"  chronicles  a  historian  of  those 
days,  "to  see  Colonel  Barber,  whose  whole  soul  was  ever  in  the 
deadly  work,  leading  on  his  brave  townsmen  and  friends,  eager 
as  they  were  for  the  fray.  His  lithe  yet  manly  form  was  ever 
in  the  thickest  of  the  contest.  He  ever  set  an  example  to  all 
about  him,  displaying  a  stoical  disregard  of  death,  despite  repeated 
wounds  and  the  sanguinary  harvest  which  Death  reaped  about 
him." 

In  1779  Colonel  Barber  accompanied  the  Jersey  Brigade,  then 
consisting  of  Colonel  Israel  Shreve's  Second  New  Jersey,  Colo- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  85 

nel  Elias  Dayton's  Third  New  Jersey,  Colonel  David  Forman's 
Regiment  of  Jerseymen  and  Marylanders,  Colonel  Elisha  Shel- 
don's (Connecticut)  Regiment  of  Dragoons,  and  a  battery  of 
light  artillery,  from  Elizabethtown  to  the  Wyoming  Valley  in 
northeastern  Pennsylvania,  to  punish  the  Six  Nation  Confederacy 
of  Indian  Savages  for  the  foul  outrages  committed  by  them  the 
previous  year  on  soldiers  and  peaceful  settlers. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  give  an  account  of  the  long  and 
fatiguing  march  (beside  which  Sherman's  promenade  from  At- 
lanta to  the  sea  was  a  pleasure  excursion)  our  brave  Jersey  Blues 
made  on  that  occasion  through  an  interminable  wilderness,  often 
finding  it  necessary  to  hew  a  way  with  axes  through  dense  for- 
ests, but  to  recite  a  thrilling  incident  witnessed  with  horror  by 
the  entire  expeditionary  force  at  the  perilous  crossing  of  the 
romantic,  wild  and  turbulent  Susquehanna  River,  near  where 
Wilkes-Barre  now  stands. 

It  was  in  this  rapidly  coursing  flood  that  Colonel  Barber 
narrowly  escaped  a  watery  grave.  A  young  lad  from  Newark 
belonging  to  the  Third  Regiment,  unable  to  maintain  his  footing 
in  the  flowing  waters,  having  been  separated  from  his  companions 
(who  held  each  other  by  the  hand  as  they  waded  across  up  to 
armpits),  was  carried  swiftly  away  by  the  rapid  current,  when 
an  alarm  was  shouted.  Colonel  Barber,  mounted  on  a  superb 
horse,  being  near  at  hand,  superintending  the  movement,  hearing 
agonizing  cries,  and  seeing  the  imminent  danger  of  the  young 
soldier,  spurred  his  swimming  animal  toward  the  drowning  boy. 
who  often  disappeared  from  sight,  and  by  dint  of  great  exertion 
succeeded  in  reaching  him  in  the  nick  of  time.  The  soldier  at 
once,  by  direction  of  the  colonel,  seized  a  stirrup,  holding  fast 
with  death-like  grip.  To  keep  his  head  out  of  water,  Colonel 
Barber,  in  his  efforts  to  draw  the  lad  out  of  the  raging  flood,  lost 
his  balance,  and  falling  from  his  horse,  was  rapidly  borne  down 
stream. 

Yells  of  horror  and  scenes  of  indescribable  confusion  among 
all  who  witnessed  the  colonel's  peril  followed.  Those  on  the 
shores  became  frantic,  especially  when  the  hero  disappeared  for  a 
time  under  the  waters  owing  to  his  inability  to  gain  a  footing,  so 
swift  and  strong  was  the  current.  Meantime  a  number  of 
mounted  officers  put  out  from  the  shores  to  effect  the  rescue  of  a 
companion  who  was  justly  regarded  as  every  man's  friend  and 
the  idol  oi  the  brigade.  Three  of  the  horsemen,  after  great  diffi- 
culty, managed  to  reach  the  drowning  colonel,  who,  encumbered 
with  a  heavy  sword,  was  unable  to  assist  himself,  and  saved  him 
from  a  cruel  fate. 


86  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

The  woods  lining  the  shores,  which  had  heretofore  only  re- 
sounded to  the  songs  of  birds  and  the  blood-curdling  yells  of 
savages,  rang  with  such  cheers  as  only  American  soldiers  can 
give,  when  they  saw  the  gallant  and  almost  unconscious  colonel 
delivered  from  a  perilous  situation.  The  colonel's  horse,  to  which 
the  brave  Newark  lad  had  clung  with  tenacity,  reached  the  shore 
in  safety  with  his  burden,  greatly  to  the  satisfaction  of  Colonel 
Barber,  who  highly  prized  the  noble  animal. 

Colonel  Barber,  who  had  long  enjoyed  the  confidence  of 
Washington,  was  senior  aide-de-camp  to  General  Lafayette  at 
Yorktown,  and  to  partially  reward  him  for  his  many  acts  of 
bravery  the  commander-in-chief  designated  him  to  command  and 
lead  the  charging  column  in  the  last  general  engagement  of  the 
war.  No  sooner  did  Alexander  Hamilton,  Barber's  former  pupil 
learn  of  this  determination  on  the  part  of  Washington  than  he 
went  directly  to  the  commander-in-chief  and  violently  remon- 
strated against  the  detail.  He  went  so  far  as  to  threaten  to  resign 
his  commission  unless  the  order  was  countermanded  and  he  given 
command  of  the  advance  column.  Although  Hamilton  had  never 
had  direct  command  of  troops,  nor  led  in  any  battle,  being  sim- 
ply a  sort  of  military  clerk  to  the  commander-in-chief,  Washing- 
ton was  compelled  to  do  an  act  of  great  injustice  to  Colonel  Bar- 
ber, which  he  ever  after  regretted. 

Although  bereft  of  a  duty,  which  he  had  not  solicited  but 
which  he  would  gladly  have  performed,  Colonel  Barber  had  in- 
tense satisfaction  in  entering  the  enemy's  works  by  the  side  of 
his  beloved  chieftain,  Lafayette,  in  advance  of  the  troops  directed 
by  Hamilton,  and  although  he  received  a  ghastly  wound  while 
endeavoring  to  wrest  a  standard  from  a  British  color-bearer,  he 
felt  amply  repaid  by  the  compliments  paid  him  in  Washington's 
congratulatory  order,  and  in  exchanging  swords  with  General 
Lafayette,  his  immediate  commander,  who  expressed  a  desire  to 
carry  back  to  France  a  weapon  that  so  often  and  so  gloriously 
flashed  in  battle.  Colonel  Barber's  sword  is  in  France,  while  the 
elegant  and  costly  blade  worn  by  the  French  patriot  may  be  seen 
to-day  at  the  rooms  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society  at 
Newburg. 

It  is  sad  to  reflect  that  Colonel  Barber,  after  many  vicissi- 
tudes and  manifold  dangers,  often  lying  close  to  death's  door, 
should  end  his  brilliant  career  of  usefulness  to  his  country  by 
being  accidentally  killed. 

Washington,  surrounded  by  most  of  his  officers  that  day, 
was  in  a  very  happy  frame  of  mind,  having  received  intelligence 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  87 

that  a  treaty  of  peace  had  been  signed  by  the  mother  country. 
He  had  ordered  an  elaborate  dinner  in  celebration  of  the  event, 
and  all  were  about  to  partake  of  the  feast  when  Washington  re- 
ceived an  important  dispatch  requiring  prompt  action.  This  he 
committed  to  Colonel  Barber  for  delivery.  The  latter,  like  the 
faithful  soldier  he  had  ever  proved,  mounted  and  dashed  away 
and  in  passing  through  a  woods,  half  a  mile  from  camp,  he  and 
his  horse  were  crushed  by  a  falling  tree,  which  at  that  moment 
soldiers  had  felled  for  firewood.  The  soldiers,  horror-stricken, 
rushed  to  the  spot,  but  the  colonel  and  his  animal,  impaled,  were 
dead,  having  been  instantly  deprived  of  life. 

When  the  sad  intelligence  was  borne  to  Washington,  he- 
rose  from  the  table,  deeply  affected,  saying:  "Men  of  higher 
rank  and  more  wealth  may  die,  but  there  is  but  one  Francis- 
Barber." 

In  closing  my  sketch,  I  will  add  the  following  story  relating; 
to  Colonel  Barber's  family,  narrated  to  me  by  Mrs.  Chetwood: 

"During  the  revolution,  Mrs.  Francis  Barber,  my  grand- 
mother, was,  with  her  children,  George  and  Mary,  sitting  in  her 
apartment  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  stone  house,  built  in  1759 
by  her  father,  in  Elizabeth  Avenue,  below  Spring  Street,  and  still 
standing,  when  a  party  of  British  soldiers  rudely  entered  either 
for  murder  or  plunder,  or  both.  They  were  boisterous,  and  paid 
no  heed  to  the  remonstrances  of  my  grandmother. 

"When  the  soldiers  at  last  tumultuously  entered  the  drawing- 
room,  expecting  to  enrich  themselves,  they  came  to  a  sudden  halt. 
They  had  made  an  unexpected  discovery — no  less  than  a  superb 
painting,  representing  General  Wolfe  at  the  battle  of  Quebec 
executed  in  a  large  panel  over  the  great  open  fireplace.  The 
raiders  no  sooner  beheld  the  picture  than,  intoxicated  and  hilari- 
ous as  they  were,  they  doffed  their  hats,  made  rough  attempts  to 
straighten  up  and  salute  the  object  of  their  adoration,  and  im- 
mediately withdrew  from  the  apartment  and  from  the  house. 
My  grandmother  often  said  she  was  firm  in  her  conviction  that 
she  and  her  children  were  indebted  for  their  lives  and  the  preser- 
vation of  her  property  to  the  effect  the  painting  of  the  gallant 
British  officer  had  on  the  mob." 


"88  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 


HEARD  COLONEL  BURR  TELL  THRILLING  STORIES. 

NO  town  in  New  Jersey  is  richer  in  Revolutionary  lore  than 
Elizabeth,  which  furnished  more  men  for  Washington's 
army  than  any  other  locality  in  the  colony.       No  other 
town  in  New  Jersey  was  so  beset  by  the  enemy  during  the  eight 
years'  struggle,  and  no  community  made  greater  sacrifices  of 
blood  and  treasure.       Elizabeth  enjoys  the  distinction  of  having 
furnished  more  commissioned  officers  than  any  other  town,  the 
most  daring  and  distinguished  men  having  their  homes  there 
when  the  war  broke  out.     Some  of  them  rose  to  national  promS 
nence  in  field  and  forum. 

Quite  a  number  of  the  lineal  descendants  of  these  heroes  and 
statesmen  are  still  living  in  Elizabeth,  notably  Mrs.  Mary  Chet- 
wood,  still  hale  and  hearty  at  the  age  of  90  years.  Mrs.  Chet- 
wood,  widow  of  John  Chetwood,  born  here  in  1817,  is  a  grand- 
daughter of  Colonel  Aaron  Ogden  and  Colonel  Francis  Barber. 

In  a  recent  intensely  interesting  conversation  with  Mrs. 
Chetwood  she  narrated  many  personal  recollections  of  General 
Lafayette,  Colonel  Aaron  Burr  and  other  noted  heroes  of  the 
war  for  independence. 

"I  am  glad  to  know,"  said  this  pariotic  and  most  amiable 
lady  to  me,  "that  you  are  an  admirer  of  Colonel  Burr,  whom 
I  repeatedly  met  and  conversed  with  at  the  home  of  Colonel 
Aaron  Ogden,  my  grandfather.  No  American  was  ever  more 
foully  aspersed  than  he.  I  never  saw  a  more  unselfish  char- 
acter, and  never  talked  with  such  a  brilliant  conversationalist. 
No  one  who  ever  looked  into  his  keen,  black,  luminous  eyes, 
could  forget  them.  I  was  in  my  early  childhood  when  first 
presented  to  Colonel  Burr  at  my  grandfather's  home,  and  was 
so  fascinated  with  his  appearance  that  I  could  scarcely  withdraw 
my  gaze.  Perhaps  he  noticed  this,  as  directly  he  made  his  way 
across  the  great  drawing  room  and  asked  me  in  a  silver-toned 
voice  if  I  played  on  the  piano.  When  I  told  him  I  did  not, 
he  smiled  sweetly  and  remarked:  'It  is  as  well;  you  will  have 
more  time  to  improve  your  mind.' 

"Colonel  Burr,  my  grandfather  and  his  brother,  General 
Matthias  Ogden,  were  bosom  friends,  almost  inseparable,  and 
of  about  the  same  age,  19  years,  when  the  war  broke  out.  Gen- 
eral Ogden  was  two  years  their  senior.  The  intimacy  and 
burning  love  existing  between  the  three  was  formed  at  the  home 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  89 

of  Colonel  Burr's  uncle,  Timothy  Edwards  (son  of  President 
Edwards,  of  Princeton  College),  who  had  married  Rhoda  Ogden, 
daughter  of  Robert  Ogden,  and  a  sister  of  Matthias  and  Aaron. 
Colonel  Burr's  mother  was  a  daughter  of  President  Edwards. 

"Colonel  Burr's  parents  dying  when  he  was  5  years  old,  he 
and  his  sister  made  their  home  with  their  uncle,  Timothy.  Young 
Burr  inherited  a  considerable  estate,  which  allowed  him  the 
privilege  of  living  and  regulating  his  conduct  according  to  the 
bent  of  his  own  inclinations.  Burr's  grief  at  the  loss  of  his 
parents,  to  whom  he  was  devotedly  attached,  seems  to  have  com- 
pletely changed  his  character,  and  historians,  taking  advantage 
of  this,  have  been  very  hard  on  him,  painting  him  in  the  blackest 
colors.  Some  writers  in  aspersing  his  character,  have  gone  so 
far  as  to  say  that  Colonel  Burr  died  unbefriended,  and  his  place 
of  'sepulchre  is  unknown.' 

"I  never  understood  why  so-called  historians  wrote  so  ven- 
omously of  a  man  who  had  faithfully  and  brilliantly  served  his 
country  on  its  battlefields.  Colonel  Burr  died  at  a  pleasant 
home  on  Staten  Island,  his  bedside  surrounded  by  sorrowing 
relatives  and  friends.  His  mortality  was  interred  at  Princeton, 
near  the  happy  scenes  of  his  college  days.  Some  of  the  rela- 
tives present  at  the  obsequies  were  Pierrepont  Edwards,  son  of 
the  distinguished  Jonathan  Edwards.  Pierrepont  Edwards  and 
Colonel  Burr's  mother  were  descendants  of  Colonel  Burr's  uncle, 
brother  and  sister.  Mrs.  Lily  Devereaux  Blake's  mother  was 
a  daughter  of  Pierrepont  Edwards.  Ogden  Edwards,  who  long 
lived  on  North  Broad  Street,  this  city,  and  died  there,  was  a 
great-grandson.  His  family  still  lives  there. 

"Ogden  Edwards  at  one  time  possessed  an  oil  painting  of 
Theodosia  Burr  (Mrs.  Alston),  Colonel  Burr's  only  daughter. 
It  hung  in  the  parlor  for  many  years,  where  I  frequently  admired 
it.  One  night  the  house  was  entered  and  the  canvas  cut  from 
the  frame  and  carried  away.  The  painting  could  never  be 
traced,  and  a  fine  work  of  art,  together  with  the  picture  of  a 
lovely  and  fascinating  woman,  whose  fate  was  melancholy, 
was  thus  forever  lost.  Theodosia  Burr,  in  both  girlhood  and 
womanhood,  was  all  brain  and  heart,  the  former  too  active  and 
the  latter  too  loving  for  the  fragile  casket  in  which  nature  had 
enclosed  them. 

"I  delight  in  recalling  recollections  of  Colonel  Burr,  and 
the  many  thrilling  stories  I  heard  when  a  girl,  of  his  great 
bravery  and  gallantry ;  of  his  long,  perilous  and  fatiguing  march 
through  the  enemy's  country,  amid  deep  snow  and  intense  cold, 


90  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES   OF   THE 

to  carry  a  dispatch  from  his  commander — General  Benedict  Ar- 
nold— to  General  Montgomery,  then  besieging  Quebec;  of  his 
carrying  the  latter  after  falling  desperately  wounded  through  a 
red  sea  of  the  enemy's  shots  to  a  place  of  safety ;  of  his  pleasant 
association  with  General  Israel  Putnam,  on  whose  staff  he  ably 
served,  and  of  his  distinguished  conduct  at  Monmouth,  in  which 
campaign  he  was  stricken  with  a  disease  which  necessitated 
his  retirement  from  the  army,  to  whose  interests  he  had  been 
entirely  devoted  for  more  than  four  years. 

"In  stature,  as  I  remember,  Colonel  Burr  was  about  five  feet 
six  inches :  of  spare,  meagre  form  of  elegant  symmetry ;  fair  and 
transparent  complexion.  He  did  not  dress  flashily,  but  well, 
and  was  of  commanding  presence,  erect  and  dignified  deport- 
ment. His  forehead  was  prominent  and  broad.  His  eyes,  of 
which  I  have  already  spoken,  were  of  ordinary  size,  of  a  dark 
hazel,  appearing  almost  black,  and  scintillated  with  the  most 
tremulous  sensibility.  They  rolled  with  poetic  fervor  and 
beamed  at  all  times  with  the  piercing  rays  of  genius.  His  mouth 
was  large,  his  voice  manly,  clear  and  as  melodious  as  a  lute. 
His  face,  analyzed,  showed  unimportant  traits,  but  upon  a  super- 
ficial view  they  were  obscured  like  the  spots  in  the  sun  by  a 
radiance  that  dazzles  and  fascinates  the  sight. 

"Colonel  Burr,  in  a  promiscuous  company,  was  rather  taci- 
turn, but  when  he  spoke  it  was  with  frankness.  He  was  the 
most  perfect  model  of  an  accomplished  gentleman  that  could  be 
found,  even  by  the  wanton  imagination  of  poetry  or  fiction. 

"I  am  heartily  glad,"  said  Mrs.  Chetwood,  in  conclusion, 
"to  learn  that  Americans  are  beginning  to  appreciate  the  great 
services  rendered  our  country  by  Colonel  Burr,  and  to  bestow 
upon  him  that  meed  of  praise  of  which  he  has  so  long  been 
bereft  by  the  machinations  of  envious  men,  who  have  labored  to 
blacken  his  character  and  thus  effect  his  ruin." 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  LAFAYETTE. 

MRS.    MARY    CHETWOOD,  of  Elizabeth,  contempora- 
neous with  many  of  the  illustrious  men  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary War,  and  who  met  and  conversed  with  them  on 
numerous  occasions,  recently  narrated  to  me  her  recollections 
of  the  last  visit  Marie  Jean  Paul  Roch  Yves  Gilbert  Motier,  Mar- 
quis De  Lafayette,  made  to  Elizabeth. 


I 

REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  9t 

"The  General's  long-promised  visit  to  this  town  was  antici- 
pated with  joyful  pleasure  by  all  our  people,  poor  as  well  as 
rich,  blacks  as  well  as  whites.  Our  authorities  and  citizens, 
with  ample  time  at  their  disposal,  made  elaborate  preparations  for 
his  coming,  and  the  attending  receptions,  as  after  the  General 
arrived  in  New  York  he  went  as  far  as  Boston  and  later  to 
Albany  on  his  sight-seeing  journey.  Wherever  he  went  he  was 
met  by  an  outpouring  of  a  grateful  people,  who  extended  the 
warmest  greetings  of  welcome.  Next  to  our  own  beloved 
Washington,  I  believe  General  Lafayette  was  the  most  popular 
man  of  our  Revolution. 

"The  General  reached  here  about  the  middle  of  September, 
on  one  of  the  most  charming  days  of  that  delightful  month. 
Everybody  rose  early  that  eventful  morn  and  lost  no  time  in 
getting  a  coigne  of  vantage  to  view  the  distinguished  visitor  and 
the  brilliant  escort  accompanying  him. 

"The  decorations  of  buildings,  while  not  so  elaborate  as  I 
have  seen  them  here  in  later  years,  were  pretty  and  effective 
and  highly  creditable  for  the  times  in  which  we  then  lived.  You 
must  remember  our  town  then  numbered  but  a  few  hundred  peo- 
ple, who  had  hardly  recovered  from  the  blighting  effects  of  the 
long  war  fought  less  than  half  a  century  previous. 

"I  remember  General  Lafayette's  appearance  perfectly  well," 
continued  Mrs.  Chetwood,  "as  he  took  my  tiny  hand  in  his  at 
the  home  of  my  grandfather,  Colonel  Aaron  Ogden,  in  the  fall 
of  1824.  He  was  then  about  60  years  old,  thick  set,  and  not 
over  five  feet  seven  inches  high.  His  hair,  quite  short  and 
tinged  with  gray,  was  unparted,  giving  it  Pompadour  style.  His 
somewhat  long  neck  was  encased  in  a  hign  stock,  covered  with, 
black  silk.  He  wore  no  hair  on  his  elongated  face.  He  greatly 
resembled  Governor  Williamson,  with  whom  I  have  often  asso- 
ciated him  in  my  mind. 

"I  shall  never  forget  the  beautiful  memories  that  cluster 
around  the  day  General  Lafayette  stopped  in  our  town.  Every 
scene  was  brilliant  and  impressive.  Business  was  generally 
suspended,  and  the  schools  closed;  everybody  appeared  in  their 
best  attire,  and  Broad  and  Jersey  Streets  presented  an  animated 
appearance. 

"The  General  came  dashing  into  town  amid  the  discharge 
of  cannon  and  ringing  of  bells,  shortly  before  noon  from  New- 
ark, escorted  by  a  gay  cavalcade  of  horsemen  gathered  from  this 
town  and  surrounding  country.  He  traveled  in  a  large  and 
heavy  barouche,  drawn  by  six  cream-colored  horses,  with  pos- 


"92  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

tilions  and  outriders  in  liveries.  I  had  never  before  seen  such 
a  gaudy  display  of  apparel,  at  least  not  on  men. 

"General  Lafayette,  while  in  this  town,  was  the  guest  of 
General  Jonathan  Dayton,  who  then  lived  in  the  building  at 
present  occupied  as  the  Home  for  Aged  Women,  and  of  my 
grandfather,  Colonel  Aaron  Ogden,  former  Governor  and 
United  States  Senator,  whose  home  was  in  the  brick  building 
standing  on  the  southwest  corner  of  East  Jersey  and  Catharine 
Streets. 

"Receptions,  open  to  the  public,  were  given  the  distin- 
guished visitor  at  both  houses,  and  I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
everybody  who  assembled  there  had  the  pleasure  of  accepting 
the  outstretched  hand  of  the  General,  who  was  in  a  very  happy 
mood.  The  ladies  who  attended  were  dressed  only  as  fashion 
and  elegance  could  devise.  Their  head-dresses  were  principally 
flowers,  with  large  ornamental  combs,  some  wearing  plumes  of 
ostrich  feathers.  White  and  black  lace  dresses  over  satin  were 
mostly  worn,  with  steel  ornaments,  and  neckchains  of  gold  and 
silver,  suspended  to  some  of  which  were  gold  and  silver  medals 
bearing  a  likeness  of  General  Lafayette,  the  most  popular  for- 
eigner who  crossed  the  sea  to  aid  the  Americans  in  achieving 
independence.  A  belt  or  sash,  with  a  likeness  of  the  General, 
entwined  with  a  chaplet  of  roses,  also  formed  part  of  the  dress 
of  the  ladies. 

"As  nearly  half  a  century  had  rolled  round  in  the  vista  of 
Time  since  my  grandfather  and  General  Dayton  first  met  Gen- 
eral Lafayette,  then  a  spirited  lad  of  but  19  years,  after  his  arrival 
in  this  country  to  do  what  he  could  to  aid  our  people  in  their 
desperate  struggle  with  a  rich  and  powerful  nation,  their  reunion 
on  this  occasion  was  most  joyful.  They  warmly  embraced, 
actually  throwing  themselves  into  each  other's  arms,  but  did 
not,  like  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe,  indulge  in  any  exercise 
of  osculation.  They  enjoyed  themselves  tete-a-tete  whenever 
possible,  but  the  constant  arrival  of  those  anxious  to  pay  homage 
precluded  such  a  talk  as  they  would  have  delighted  in. 

"But  how  much  more  glorious  the  occasion  had  Governor 
Livingston,  General  (Lord)  Stirling,  General  Elias  Dayton  (the 
personification  of  Washington),  General  Matthias  Ogden,  Gen- 
eral William  Crane,  General  William  Maxwell,  Colonel  Francis 
Barber  (with  whom  General  Lafayette  exchanged  swords  after 
the  capture  of  Yorktown),  Parson  Caldwell  and  other  noted 
patriot  soldiers  been  present  to  join  in  the  gladsome  welcome  to 
a  companion  for  whom  from  the  first  all  had  the  sincerest  ad- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  93 

miration  and  profoundest  esteem  ?  But  all  these  had  long  since 
crossed  the  silent  river  to  join  the  immortal  throng  which  had 
gone  before. 

"General  Lafayette  expressed  himself  as  delighted  with 
everything  he  had  seen  during  his  two  months'  sojourn,  which, 
by  the  way,  was  well  extended  into  the  next  year,  enabling  him 
to  visit  almost  every  section,  and  was  enthusiastic  in  predicting 
a  bright  and  wonderful  future  for  our  land. 

"When  he  took  leave  of  General  Dayton  and  my  grand- 
father, General  Lafayette,  as  well  as  they,  were  visibly  affected, 
and  I  am  sure  tears  welled  in  their  aged  eyes,  as  they  did  in  my 
younger  and  brighter  ones.  The  distinguished  trio  thus  parted 
with  the  consciousness  that  never  again  would  they  meet  in  this 
world.  In  fact,  General  Dayton  died  suddenly  a  few  days  after- 
ward. 

"General  Lafayette's  visit  formed  a  theme  of  pleasant  con- 
verse for  our  people  for  long  years  afterward,  and  with  me  the 
impressions  imparted  by  it  are  among  the  sweetest  of  my  life." 


A  SOLDIER  FROM  BOYHOOD. 

DURING  the  times  the  souls  of  the  first  Americans  were 
sorely  tried,  New  Jersey  had  no  firmer  patriot,  more 
daring  or  brilliant  soldier,  safer  counselor  or  more  emi- 
nent statesman  than  General  Elias  Dayton,  who  was  born  in 
Elizabeth  in  1737.  In  his  mature  years  he  bore  a  marked  resem- 
blance to  General  Washington,  with  whom,  during  the  struggle 
for  liberty  and  independence,  and  long  after,  he  enjoyed  confiden- 
tial relations,  and  whose  confidence  he  possessed,  both  being  of 
nearly  the  same  age,  Washington  antedating  him  by  five  years. 

Dayton,  when  a  young  man,  was  noted  for  his  activity, 
strength,  and  intrepidity,  none  excelling  him  in  athletic  exercises. 
None  could  draw  a  finer  bead  over  the  long  and  heavy  barrel  of 
a  Kentucky  rifle,  his  marksmanship  being  unerring,  a  matter  that 
proved  of  great  value  to  him  after  he  became  an  officer  in  the 
English  provincial  army,  while  in  horsemanship  he  was  unex- 
celled. On  entering  his  teens  he  was  regarded  by  his  playmates 
as  a  leader,  all  acknowledging  his  superiority  of  strength  and 
character. 

When  but  22  years  of  age  young  Dayton,  who  had  a  fond- 
ness for  adventure  and  military  life,  entered  the  military  service 
of  the  province  of  New  Jersey  and  was  promptly  commissioned 


"94  HISTORICAL   SKETCHES   OF   THE 

as  a  lieutenant.  One  year  later,  March  29,  1760,  he  was  promoted 
to  a  captaincy,  serving  at  the  time  with  regular  British  troops 
in  the  war  against  the  French  on  the  northwestern  frontier.  He 
took  a  prominent  part  in  the  prolonged  conflict  against  Pontiac 
the  great  head  of  the  Indian  race  of  that  period  and  chief  ally  of 
the  French  in  America,  and  had  much  to  do  in  compelling  that 
fierce  and  vengeful  as  well  as  able  warrior,  while  besieging  De- 
troit, to  beat  a  retreat.  Captain  Dayton  greatly  distinguished 
himself  the  following  year  in  an  expedition  against  Pontiac,  and 
was  highly  honored  by  his  fellow-townsmen  on  his  return  home 
-at  the  end  of  an  arduous  and  dangerous  campaign. 

Captain  Dayton,  retiring  from  the  service,  settled  down  to 
the  quiet  walks  of  private  life,  but  it  was  not  long  ere  he,  like  his 
fellow-countrymen,  began  to  complain  of  the  injustice  of  King 
George's  government  toward  the  people  of  the  colony,  and  he 
became  a  leader  in  molding  public  opinion,  and  securing  the  adop- 
tion of  measures  that  finally  led  to  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence. 

Immediately  after  the  attack  of  the  British  at  Lexington, 
Captain  Dayton,  to  whom  the  patriots  of  Elizabeth  quickly  turned, 
organized  a  regiment  of  militia,  many  of  its  members  having 
served  with  him  in  the  Indian  wars,  but  Congress,  for  some  un- 
accountable reason,  did  not  accept  the  services  of  the  command 
until  early  in  the  following  year.  Notwithstanding  this,  Colonel 
Dayton,  who  had  been  chosen  commander  of  the  Third  Regiment, 
.continued  to  drill  and  arm  his  men,  in  order  to  be  ready  for  any 
emergency  that  might  arise.  An  opportunity  soon  presented  itself 
in  the  unexpected  arrival  in  Prince's  Bay,  off  Amboy,  of  the 
British  ship  Blue  Mountain  Valley,  which  put  in  there  owing  to  a 
storm.  Colonel  Dayton,  hearing  of  this,  selected  one  hundred 
of  his  men,  and  in  whaleboats,  hastened  down  the  sound  to  effect 
its  capture,  a  task  that  was  successfully  accomplished  without 
the  loss  of  a  man. 

Colonel  William  Alexander  (better  known  as  Lord  Stirling), 
who  resided  at  Basking  Ridge,  and  was  commander  of  the  First 
Regiment,  also  proceeded  overland  with  a  small  force  to  Amboy 
on  the  same  errand.  Both  forces  joined  and  at  daybreak  cap- 
tured the  vessel.  Alexander,  like  Admiral  Samson  at  Santiago, 
reported  what  he  didn't  do  to  Congress,  saying  never  a  word 
about  Dayton  and  his  stronger  command,  which  really  accom- 
plished the  task  and  received  a  vote  of  thanks.  Lord  Stirling 
had  had  no  military  training,  but  this  act,  in  which  he  played 
-second  part,  ultimately  made  him  a  major-general  in  the  Con- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  95 

tinental  Army,  he  being  the  only  Jersey  man  to  enjoy  that  dis- 
tinction. 

Colonel  Dayton  and  his  regiment,  after  doing  guard  duty 
in  New  York  City,  marched  early  in  1776  to  Fort  Ticonderoga, 
and  assisted  in  the  successful  defense  of  that  important  strong- 
hold, and  in  1777  he  enjoyed  the  coveted  distinction  of  opening 
the  sanguinary  battle  of  Brandywine,  in  which  conflict  Colonel 
Dayton  had  a  horse  shot  under  him,  and  at  the  battle  of  Ger- 
mantown,  a  little  later  on,  had  another  horse  killed  under  him  in 
the  heat  of  the  engagement,  his  coat  being  riddled  by  bullets.  It 
was  believed  by  Colonel  Dayton's  men  that  the  enemy  mistook 
him  for  the  commander-in-chief  whom  he  so  greatly  resembled. 
When  his  friend,  Colonel  Francis  Barber,  jokingly  alluded  to  the 
loss  of  two  horses  in  two  battles  in  succession,  Colonel  Dayton 
jocosely  remarked:  "Yes,  it  is  rather  a  costly  luxury,  and  it 
eats  dreadfully  into  my  salary." 

Colonel  Dayton,  in  June,  1778,  enjoyed  the  merited  distinc- 
tion of  first  attacking  the  British  column  on  the  glorious  field  of 
Monmouth,  in  this  state,  where  he  performed  prodigies  of  valor, 
and  in  the  summer  of  1779,  he  and  his  famous  command  took  an 
active  part  in  the  operations  of  General  Sullivan's  command  in 
the  Wyoming  Valley.  He  served  in  Congress  in  1778-9,  and  re- 
joined his  command  at  Yorktown,  taking  part  in  the  siege,  and 
in  the  ceremonies  attending  the  surrender  of  Cornwallis  and  his 
army,  October  10,  1781.  Colonel  Dayton  succeeded  General  Wil- 
liam Maxwell  in  command  of  the  Jersey  brigade,  and  was  thus 
one  of  the  two  brigadier  generals  appointed  from  New  Jersey  to 
the  Continental  Army. 

Notable  qualities  were  ever  displayed  by  General  Dayton  in 
all  the  situations  to  which  stern  duty  called  him.  He  had  a  com- 
bination of  the  daring  spirit  of  the  soldier,  which  he  was  born 
to  be,  as  well  as  business  and  statesmanlike  qualities,  which 
eminently  fitted  him  for  the  important  affairs  which  constantly 
confronted  and  engrossed  him.  He  possessed  executive  ability 
of  a  high  order,  and  had  a  comprehension  of  details  which  were 
of  infinite  service  to  his  command  as  well  as  to  his  country,  whose 
interests  he  ever  faithfully  and  efficiently  served.  A  successful 
soldier,  a  hero  in  many  arduous  and  fatiguing  campaigns,  he 
was  of  unblemished  character  and  cultivated  intellect.  His  de- 
portment, while  dignified,  was  winning.  He  was  one  of  the  finest 
examples  of  the  citizen-soldier  in  American  history. 

A  leader  by  divine  right,  and  a  magnetizer  of  men  whose 
winning  art  was  unconsciously  exercised,  General  Elias  Dayton 


96  HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    THE 

never  failed  to  deploy  with  such  consummate  finesse  that  it  was 
always  his  men  who  led  and  he  who  followed.  The  care  and 
safety  of  his  men  and  the  good  of  his  country  was  the  pillar  of 
cloud  by  day  and  his  pillar  of  fire  by  night. 

General  Dayton  towered  in  strength,  and  in  activity  he  was 
marvelous,  and,  compressing  the  arduous,  well-directed  toil  of 
years  into  the  brevity  of  this  imperfect  sketch,  no  man  did 
more  than  he  to  regenerate  and  stimulate  his  fellow-citizens  dur- 
ing the  great  contest  in  which  he  bore  such  a  conspicuous  part. 
A  Solon  in  wisdom,  irreproachable  as  a  citizen,  ideal  in  his 
home,  noble-minded  and  princely  in  all  his  impulses,  General 
Dayton  was  a  man  who  wove  the  precious  threads  of  his  check- 
ered and  honored  life  into  the  tapestry  of  our  country's  history, 
enjoying  the  highest  honors  his  people  had  to  give,  and  which  he 
magnificently  bore  with  opulent  fruitage. 

His  death  in  1807,  at  the  age  of  three-score  years  and  ten. 
caused  all  our  people  to  mourn  at  his  tomb  in  the  burying  ground 
in  the  First  Presbyterian  Churchyard.  His  memory  is  embalmed 
with  the  amaranth  and  ivy  of  the  love  of  patriots,  while  the  tree- 
top  choristers  overshadowing  his  resting  place,  chant  requiems 
and  the  grass  continues  to  grow  green  above  him. 


MISS  MARGARET  MONCRIEFFE. 

A  BEAUTIFUL  and  charming  woman,  who  became  notor- 
ious the  wide-world  over  after  the  American  revolution, 
passed  her  happy  school-girl  days  in  Elizabethtown,  and 
a  chapter  or  two  concerning  her  ill-spent  life  may  not  prove  unin- 
teresting. 

It  is  of  the  unhappy  and  unfortunate  Margaret  Moncrieffe 
whose  chequered  history  I  am  now  induced  to  rehearse.  It  was 
on  her  account — for  which,  however,  she  was  in  no  way  responsi- 
ble— that  the  gallant  Aaron  Burr  was  traduced,  his  motive  as- 
persed, and  his  character  forever  blackened. 

Margaret  Moncrieffe,  only  daughter  of  Captain  James  Mon- 
crieffe (at  the  end  of  the  war  lieutenant-colonel  of  engineers  in 
the  British  army),  when  fourteen  years  of  age.  was  a  woman  in 
development — witty,  piquant  and  lovely.  Previous  to  the  out- 
break of  the  revolution  she  had  resided  in  New  York  City,  where 
her  father  was  stationed  with  his  command. 

Related  to  Governor  Livingston's  family,  Margaret  was  in- 
vited to  visit  Elizabethtown  and  make  her  home  at  "Liberty 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  97 

Hall,"  the  present  residence  of  the  Kean  family,  until  the  "trou- 
blous times  are  o'er." 

The  occupancy  of  New  York  City  by  the  American  army. 
and  the  compulsory  retirement  therefrom  of  the  British  force, 
necessarily  separated  father  and  daughter,  and  for  a  time  they 
were  unable  to  communicate  with  each  other.  When  the  British 
took  possession  of  Staten  Island  in  July,  1776,  and  Margaret 
learned  that  her  father,  to  whom  she  was  greatly  attached,  was 
with  the  troops  there,  she  yearned  to  join  him,  and  wrote  General 
Israel  Putnam,  commanding  the  American  force 'in  New  York 
City,  to  that  effect,  begging  his  advice  and  assistance  in  restor- 
ing her  to  her  father. 

Aaron  Burr,  then  a  major  in  the  Continental  army,  receiving 
his  commission  from  the  state  of  New  Jersey,  of  which  he  was  a 
native,  and  a  member  of  General  Putnam's  military  household, 
prepared  the  bluff  old  general's  reply  to  her  letter,  in  which  the 
general  was  made  to  say  that  as  a  soldier  he  was  her  father's 
enemy,  but  as  a  man  his  friend,  and  ready  to  perform  any  worthy 
act  for  him  or  his.  He  concluded  by  inviting  Miss  Moncrieffe  to 
leave  Elizabeth  town  and  come  to  New  York  City  and  make  her 
home  with  his  family  at  his  headquarters,  No.  1  Broadway,  until 
he  could  arrange  for  sending  her  to  her  father  on  Staten  Island. 

General  Putnam's  kind  letter  rejoiced  the  young  lady's  heart, 
and  bidding  Governor  Livingston's  family  farewell,  she  left  this 
town  for  New  York  in  a  small  sail-boat,  escorted  by  one  of  Gen- 
eral Putnam's  aides,  who  was  accompanied  by  his  wife. 

It  was  at  General  Putnam's  headquarters  that  Margaret  Mon- 
crieffe first  met  the  ever-courteous  and  dashing  Aaron  Burr,  with 
whom,  later  on.  she  became  intimate.  Most  writers,  from  that 
day  to  this,  have  attributed  Miss  Moncrieffe's  subsequent  career 
of  shame  and  sorrow  to  the  major,  then  popular  with  all,  save 
Alexander  Hamilton,  in  whom  the  green-eyed  monster  existed 
from  the  time  he  and  Burr  first  met. 

In  her  memoirs,  published  early  in  the  last  century,  Miss 
Moncrieffe  writes  as  follows  of  her  departure  from  Elizabethtown 
and  her  arrival  in  New  York.  It  is  generally  conceded  that  her 
"conqueror,"  whom  she  so  passionately  and  eloquently  extols, 
was  Major  Aaron  Burr: 

"*  *  *  When  I  arrived  in  Broadway  (a  street  so  called), 
where  General  Putnam  resided,  I  was  received  with  great  ten- 
derness, both  by  Mrs.  Putnam  and  her  daughters,  and  on  the 
following  day  I  was  introduced  by  them  to  General  and  Mrs. 
Washington,  who  likewise  made  it  their  duty  to  show  me  every 


98  HISTORICAL   SKETCHES   OF   THE 

mark  of  regard;  but  I  was  seldom  allowed  to  be  alone,  although, 
sometimes,  indeed,  I  found  an  opportunity  to  escape  to  the  gal- 
lery on  top  of  the  house,  where  my  chief  delight  was  to  view, 
with  a  telescope  our  fleet  and  army  on  Staten  Island.  My 
amusements  were  few;  the  good  Mrs.  Putnam  employed  me  and 
her  daughters  constantly  to  spin  flax  for  shirts  for  the  American, 
soldiers;  indolence  in  America  being  totally  discouraged;  and  I 
likewise  worked  for  General  Putnam,  who,  though  not  an  accom- 
plished muscadin,  like  our  dillatantes  of  St.  James  Street,  was 
certainly  one  of  the  best  characters  in  the  world ;  his  heart  being 
composed  of  those  noble  materials  which  equally  command  re- 
spect and  admiration. 

"*  *  *  One  day  a  flag  of  truce  arrived  from  Staten 
Island,  with  letters  from  Major  Moncrieffe,  demanding  me,  for 
they  now  considered  me  as  a  prisoner.  General  Washington; 
would  not  acquiesce  in  this  demand,  saying  that  'I  should  remain 
a  hostage  for  my  father's  good  behavior.'  I  must  here  observe 
that  when  General  Washington  refused  to  deliver  me  up,  the 
noble-minded  Putnam,  as  if  it  were  by  instinct,  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  sword,  and  with  a  violent  oath,  swore  'that  my  father's 
request  should  be  granted.'  The  commander-in-chief,  whose 
influence  governed  Congress,  soon  prevailed  on  them  to  consider 
me  as  a  person  whose  situation  required  their  strict  attention; 
and  that  I  might  not  escape,  they  ordered  me  to  Kingsbridge 
where,  in  justice,  I  must  say,  that  I  was  treated  with  the  utmost 
tenderness.  General  Mifflin  there  commanded.  His  lady  was  a 
most  accomplished,  beautiful  woman,  a  Quaker.  And  here  my 
heart  received  its  first  impression — an  impression  that,  amid  the 
subsequent  shocks  which  it  has  received,  has  never  been  effaced^ 
and  which  rendered  me  very  unfit  to  admit  the  embraces  of  an- 
unfeeling  brutish  husband. 

"O,  may  these  pages  one  day  meet  the  eye  of  him  who  sub- 
dued my  virgin  heart,  whom  the  immutable,  unerring  laws  of 
nature  had  pointed  out  for  my  husband,  but  whose  sacred  decree 
the  barbarous  custom  of  society  fatally  violated.  To  him  I 
plighted  my  virgin  vow,  and  I  shall  never  cease  to  lament  that 
obedience  to  a  father  left  it  incomplete.  When  I  reflect  on  my 
past  sufferings,  now  that,  alas !  my  present  sorrows  press  heavily 
upon  me,  I  cannot  refrain  from  expatiating  a  little  on  the  inevita- 
ble horrors  which  ever  attend  the  frustration  of  natural  affec- 
tions :  I  myself,  who,  unpitied  by  the  world,  have  endured  every 
calamity  that  human  heart  knows,  am  a  melancholy  example  of 
this  truth ;  for  if  I  know  my  own  heart,  it  is  far  better  calculated 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  99 

for  the  purer  joys  of  domestic  life  than  for  the  hurricane  of 
extravagance  and  dissipation  in  which  I  have  been  wrecked. 

"Why  is  the  will  of  nature  so  often  perverted?  Why  is 
social  happiness  forever  sacrificed  at  the  altar  of  prejudice? 
Avarice  has  usurped  the  throne  of  reason,  and  the  affections  of 
the  heart  are  not  consulted.  We  cannot  command  our  desires, 
and  when  the  object  of  our  being  is  unattained,  misery  must  nec- 
essarily be  our  doom.  Let  this  truth,  therefore,  be  forever  re- 
membered: when  once  an  affection  has  rooted  itself  in  a  tender 
constant  heart,  no  time,  no  circumstance  can  eradicate  it.  Un- 
fortunate, then,  are  they  who  are  joined  if  their  hearts  are  not 
matched ! 

"With  this  conqueror  of  my  soul,  how  happy  should  I  now 
have  been !  What  storms  and  tempests  should  I  have  avoided  (at 
least  I  am  pleased  to  think  so),  if  I  had  been  allowed  to  follow 
the  bent  of  my  inclinations!  and  happier,  O,  ten  thousand  times 
happier,  should  I  have  been  with  him  in  the  wildest  desert  of  our 
native  country,  the  woods  affording  us  our  only  shelter,  and 
their  fruits  our  only  repast,  than  under  the  canopy  of  costly 
state,  with  all  the  refinements  and  embellishments  of  courts,  with 
the  royal  warrior  who  would  fain  have  proved  himself  the  con- 
queror of  France. 

"My  conqueror  was  engaged  in  another  cause;  he  was  am- 
bitious to  obtain  other  laurels:  he  fought  to  liberate,  not  to  en- 
slave nations.  He  was  a  colonel  in  the  American  army,  and  high 
in  the  estimation  of  his  country;  his  victories  were  never  accom- 
panied with  one  gloomy,  relentless  thought;  they  alone  shone  as 
bright  as  the  cause  which  achieved  them!  I  had  communicated 
to  General  Putnam  the  proposals  of  this  gentleman,  with  my 
determination  to  accept  them,  and  I  was  embarrassed  by  the 
answer  which  the  general  returned ;  he  entreated  me  to  remember 
that  the  person  in  question,  from  his  political  principles,  was 
extremely  obnoxious  to  my  father,  and  concluded  by  observing, 
'that  I  surely  must  not  unite  with  a  man  who  would  not  hesitate 
.  to  drench  his  sword  in  the  blood  of  my  nearest  relation,  should 
he  be  opposed  to  him  in  battle.'  Saying  this,  he  lamented  the 
necessity  of  giving  advice  contrary  to  his  own  sentiments,  since 
in  every  other  respect  he  considered  the  match  as  unexception- 
able. Nevertheless,  General  Putnam,  after  this  discovery,  ap- 
peared, in  all  his  visits  to  Kingsbridge,  extremely  reserved;  nor 
did  he  ever  cease  to  make  the  object  of  his  concern  to  Congress ; 
and,  after  various  applications,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  leave 
for  my  departure;  when,  in  order  that  I  should  go  to  Staten 


100  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

Island  with  the  respect  due  to  my  sex  and  family,  the  barge 
belonging  to  the  Continental  Congress  was  ordered,  with  twelve 
oars  and  a  general  officer,  together  with  his  suite,  was  despatched  - 
to  see  me  safe  across  the  bay  of  New  York.  The  day  was  so 
very  tempestuous  that  I  was  half  drowned  with  the  waves  dash- 
ing against  me.  When  we  came  within  hail  of  the  Eagle  man- 
of-war,  which  was  Lord  Howe's  ship,  a  flag  of  truce  was  sent  to 
meet  us.  The  officer  despatched  on  this  occasion  was  Lieutenant 
Brown.  General  Knox  told  him  that  he  had  orders  to  see  me 
safe  at  headquarters.  Lieutenant  Brown  replied,  'It  was  impos- 
sible, as  no  person  from  the  enemy  could  approach  nearer  the 
English  fleet' ;  but  added,  'that  if  I  would  place  myself  under  his 
protection,  he  certainly  would  attend  me  thither.'  I  then  entered 
the  barge,  and  bidding  an  eternal  farewell  to  my  dear  American 
friends,  turned  my  back  on  Liberty. 

"We  first  rowed  alongside  the  Eagle,  and  Mr.  Brown  after- 
ward conveyed  me  to  headquarters.  When  my  name  was  an- 
nounced, the  British  commander-in-chief  sent  Colonel  Sheriff 
(lately  made  a  general,  and  who,  during  my  father's  life-time, 
was  one  of  his  most  particular  friends ;  although,  alas !  the  en- 
dearing sentiment  of  friendship  now  seems  extinct  in  his  breast, 
as  far  as  the  unhappy  daughter  is  concerned),  with  an  invitation 
from  Sir  William  Howe  to  dinner,  which  was  necessarily  ac- 
cepted. When  introduced,  I  cannot  describe  the  emotion  I  felt; 
so  sudden  the  transition  in  a  few  hours,  that  I  was  ready  to  sink 
into  earth !  Judge  the  distress  of  a  girl  not  fourteen  obliged  to 
encounter  the  curious,  inquisitive  eyes  of  at  least  forty  or  fifty 
people  who  were  at  dinner  with  the  general.  Fatigued  with  their 
fastidious  compliments,  I  could  only  hear  the  buzz  among  them 
saying,  'She  is  a  sweet  girl ;  she  is  divinely  handsome' ;  although 
it  was  some  relief  to  be  placed  at  table  next  to  the  wife  of  Major 
Montresor,  who  had  known  me  from  infancy." 

Miss  Moncrieffe,  in  her  memoirs,  records  the  history  of  her 
unfortunate  marriage  with  Captain  John  Coghlan  of  the  85th 
Regiment  of  Foot  of  the  British  Army,  who,  by  the  brutality  of 
his  conduct  and  his  entrance  into  every  fashionable  vice  and  folly 
of  the  day,  "drove  her  into  the  arms  of  a  paramour."  She  and 
her  husband  sailed  on  the  flagship  of  the  British  fleet,  which  left 
New  York  for  England  Evacuation  Day,  1783. 

She  asserts  that  she  led  a  strictly  virtuous  life  until,  after 
being  forced  into  marriage  with  a  man  she  loathed,  she  was  sub- 
jected by  him  to  harsh  and  cruel  treatment,  and  it  is,  therefore 
but  just  to  the  memory  of  Colonel  Aaron  Burr,  every  way  better 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  101 

than  most  of  his  traducers,  for  the  reader  to  be  informed  that 
the  foul  story  of  her  ruination  by  him  finds  no  corroboration  in 
her  own  printed  and  intensely  interesting  narrative. 

Soon  after  the  arrival  of  herself  and  husband  in  London, 
she  left  the  brute  she  was  compelled  to  acknowledge  as  husband, 
and  became  the  mistress  of  the  rakish  Duke  of  York,  and  other 
noble  libertines,  who  were  entranced  with  her  ''beauty  and  divine 
loveliness." 

For  a  period  of  fifteen  years  Margaret  Moncrieffe  made  no 
inconsiderable  noise  in  the  fashionable  circles  of  Great  Britain 
and  France.  She  alternatively  reveled  in  wealth  and  luxury  and 
in  squalid  poverty,  and,  finally,  when  "beauty  fled,"  found  her- 
self deserted  by  all,  and  at  last  died  in  misery  and  suffering  in 
London. 


ELIZABETHANS  DEFEND  AARON  BURR. 

THE  patriots  of  Elizabethtown  and  vicinity  seem  to  have 
been  cognizant,  as  early  as  1800,  of  the  insidious  efforts 
of  the  aristocratic  federalists  and  tories  of  New  York,  to 
effect  the  downfall  and  personal  ruin  of  the  gallant  Colonel  Aaron 
Burr,  for  whom  Alexander  Hamilton,  a  foreigner,  without  natural 
parents,  had,  during  his  schoolboy  days  and  throughout  the 
American  revolution,  nursed  a  bitter  and  relentless  hatred.  This 
feeling  on  the  part  of  patriotic  Jerseymen  will  be  seen  in  the 
following  toasts  drank  at  public  meetings  held  here  after  ColoneJ 
Burr  had  been  inaugurated  as  vice-president  of  the  United  States 
I  copy  from  the  Elizabeth  Journal  of  March,  1801 : 

"A  large  number  of  republicans  of  this  town  met  on  the 
evening  of  March  10  to  celebrate  the  inauguration  of  Thomas 
Jefferson  as  president,  and  Aaron  Burr  as  vice-president,  and 
among  the  toasts  drank  was  the  following: 

"  'Aaron  Burr,  Vice- President — May  his  enemies  do  penance 
by  being  obliged  to  swallow  A  Burr.  (Three  cheers.)'" 

On  the  same  evening  the  republicans  of  Westfield  met  and 
drank  the  following  toast  to  Colonel  Burr: 

"Aaron  Burr,  Vice-President  and  President  of  the  Senate — 
May  his  patriotism  and  wisdom  defeat  the  plans  of  the  wicked 
junta  in  that  house." 

"Wheatsheaf,  March  4. — Vice-President  Burr — May  he  re- 
main as  an  unbroken  pillar  in  the  cause  of  Freedom  and  prove 
a  scourge  to  aristocracy  wherever  it  may  appear." 


102  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

"March  17.  North  Farms. — The  worthy  Aaron  Burr,  vice- 
president  of  the  United  States — May  he  co-operate  with  the 
sage  of  Monticello  in  making  this  western  world  free,  indepen- 
dent and  happy.  (Six  cheers.)" 


CAPTURE  OF  GUN  BOAT. 

DURING  most  of  the  Revolutionary  War  the  tories  on 
Staten  Island  kept  small  armed  vessels  on  guard  along 
the  sound  from  Bergen  Point  to  Tottenville,  and  Ameri- 
cans from  Elizabethtown  made  frequent  attempts  to  capture  them, 
as  they  were  a  source  of  much  trouble  and  of  infinite  danger  to 
our  people. 

One  beautiful  moonlight  night  a  party  of  town  boys  rowed 
down  to  Tottenville,  hoping  to  capture  a  sloop  lying  at  anchor 
there,  but  finding  its  captain — James  Stewart — and  crew  bustling 
about  on  deck  they  turned  back  and  returned  home,  bitterly  la- 
menting the  failure  of  their  enterprise. 

For  a  long  time  in  1779  a  sloop  called  the  "Neptune"  did 
guard  service  off  Bergen  Point,  commanding  the  entrance  to  the 
Kills  as  well  as  Newark  Bay,  but  one  night  in  October,  during 
a  heavy  blow,  the  craft  got  loose  from  its  anchorage,  and  drifted 
toward  this  town,  grounding  on  the  bar  east  of  the  present  Singer 
factory. 

The  soldiers  who  manned  the  fortifications  at  the  eastern 
terminal  of  New  Point  Road,  seeing  the  vessel  fast  in  the  mud 
at  low  tide,  got  into  boats,  and  rowing  out.  took  possession  of  the 
deserted  craft.  They  were  congratulating  themselves  on  the 
capture  when  they  saw  several  whale  boats,  filled  with  armed 
men,  putting  out  from  Port  Richmond,  with  a  view  of  effecting 
its  recapture. 

The  Americans,  unable  to  fire  the  cannon  on  the  deck  of  the 
sloop,  put  up  a  stiff  fight  with  their  muskets,  but  finding  them- 
selves greatly  outnumbered,  and  a  British  gunboat  rapidly  ap- 
proaching, withdrew  from  the  vessel,  and  made  good  their  return 
to  the  shore  and  the  protection  of  the  fort. 

Cornelius  and  Job  Hetfield,  two  notorious  tories,  who  were 
driven  out  of  Elizabethtown  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  war,  were 
in  command  of  the  British  boats. 

The  Neptune  remained  fast  in  the  mud  until  the  tide  rose, 
when  she  floated  and  sailed  away,  not,  however,  without  receiv- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  103 

ing  some  damage,  and  several  of  her  defenders  being  killed  and 
wounded  by  the  Americans. 

The  tories  and  renegades  on  Staten  Island  were  a  disreput- 
able lot,  respecting  neither  friend  or  foe,  revenge  and  plunder 
being  their  chief  incentives. 

One  night  a  British  vessel,  under  a  flag  of  truce,  on  its  way 
from  New  York  to  this  town,  was  suddenly  boarded  by  a  number 
of  armed  men  in  disguise.  They  spared  the  lives  of  those  on 
board  when  promised  the  quiet  surrender  of  some  two  thousand 
guineas  which  the  British  paymaster-general  in  New  York  had 
consigned  to  the  vessel  for  delivery  here,  the  Americans  having 
agreed  to  forward  the  gold  to  Pennsylvania  to  purchase  supplies 
for  the  Hessian  prisoners  of  war  confined  there. 

The  British  attempted  to  fasten  the  crime  on  soldiers  from 
Elizabethtown,  but  the  fact  was  soon  after  established  that  Staten 
Island  tories  perpetrated  the  act 


BRITISH  FRIGHTENED  BY  GIRL. 

A  TRADITION  of  the  hasty  and  demoralizing  retreat  of 
Knyphausen's  army  from  Connecticut  Farms  on  the  terri- 
ble night  following  the  battle  in  June,  1780,  is  to  the 
effect  that  a  number  of  drunken  Hessian  soldiers,  searching  for 
plunder,  left  the  disordered  column  and  entered  "Liberty  Hall," 
the  abode  of  Governor  Livingston,  and  the  present  home  of  the 
Kean  family. 

In  the  time  of  the  revolution,  the  present  Morris  Avenue 
ran  but  a  short  distance  above  "Liberty  Hall,"  where  it  branched 
off  in  a  northeasterly  direction,  as  far  as  the  entrance  to  Vauxhall 
Road,  at  what  is  now  known  as  Salem.  The  Vauxhall  Road, 
in  its  serpentine  course,  leading  to  Springfield  and  the  mountains 
beyond,  is  about  the  same  to-day  as  then,  except  that  most  of  it 
has  been  telforized,  making  a  pretty  drive  its  whole  length. 

The  Vauxhall  Road,  originally  an  Indian  trail  and  subse- 
quently a  cow  path,  which  accounts  for  its  winding  ways  through 
and  over  the  hills,  was  one  of  the  two  main  thoroughfares  leading 
from  this  town  to  Morristown  previous  to  and  during  the  Revo- 
lutionary War. 

It  was  by  this  road  that  one  column  of  the  British  army  fled 
back  to  this  town  on  the  night  of  June  7,  after  its  defeat  at  Con- 
necticut Farms.  The  night  was  made  boisterous  by  a  fearful 
storm  of  blinding  lightning  and  loud  rolling  thunder,  and  the  wild 


104  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

but  senseless  curses  of  the  drunken  British  soldiers,  smarting 
under  the  humiliation  of  bitter  defeat  by  a  handful  of  American 
farmer  boys,  illy  clad  and  poorly  armed. 

As  I  have  already  narrated,  detachments  from  this  drunken 
army  (now  a  mere  rabble),  entered  the  house  of  Governor  Liv- 
ingston for  purposes  of  plunder,  if  nothing  worse.  They  knew 
no  men  folks  would  be  within,  and  capable  of  any  crime,  as  they 
had  shown  themselves  a  few  hours  before  when  they  mercilessly 
murdered  Mrs.  Caldwell  in  her  sanctified  home,  they  forced  an 
entrance. 

The  maid  servants  had  fastened  themselves  in  the  kitchen, 
an  apartment  at  the  north  end  of  the  mansion,  while  the  two 
heroic  daughters  of  the  Governor  securely  locked  the  doors  lead- 
ing into  their  chamber  from  the  broad  open  hallway  on  the  second 
floor. 

The  beastly  ruffians.  I  am  glad  to  state,  contented  them- 
selves by  remaining  on  the  ground  floors,  where  they  searched 
for  treasure,  and  it  was  while  thus  engaged  that  Miss  Kate  Liv- 
ingston, attired  in  a  white  robe  (perhaps  a  night  dress),  appeared 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  holding  in  her  hand  a  lighted  taper,  the 
beams  from  which  partially  illumined  the  hallway  below. 

However  much  the  rum-besoaked  ruffians  were  insensible  to 
human  fear,  they  no  sooner  beheld  Miss  Livingston's  angelic  form 
than  by  common  accord  they  rushed  from  the  house,  declaring 
the  apparition  of  the  murdered  saint  (Mrs.  Caldwell),  had  thus 
suddenly  appeared  to  reprove  them  for  their  awful  crime. 

It  was  this  scene  that  caused  the  hasty  exit  of  the  Hessians 
from  a  house  they  hated,  and  which  they  doubtless  would  have 
been  glad  to  detroy.  The  only  wonder  is  that  the  historic  house 
was  not  given  to  the  flames,  for  it  was  repeatedly  visited  by  the 
enemy  during  the  eight  years  of  the  American  revolution. 


REFUGEES  MAKE  BITTER  FIGHT. 

ONE  of  the  last  as  well  as  one  of  the  fiercest  encounters 
between    New   Jersey   militiamen   and   refugees   in   the 
Revolutionary  War  took  place  in  Burlington  County  in 
January,  1783. 

John  Bacon,  a  native  of  Monmouth  County,  one  of  the  most 
notorious  refugees  in  South  Jersey,  while  on  one  of  his  mur- 
derous raids,  halted  his  gang  in  the  vicinity  of  Cedar  Creek 
bridge. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  105 

Captain  Richard  Shreve,  commanding  the  Burlington  County 
Lighthouse,  learning  of  Bacon's  whereabouts,  induced  Captain 
Edward  Thomas,  commanding  the  Mansfield  militia  company  to 
join  him  in  an  attempt  to  capture  Bacon,  for  whom  Governor 
Livingston,  of  Elizabethtown,  had  offered  a  reward  of  twenty- 
five  pounds. 

Captain  Thomas  got  his  men  together  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  both  commands  started  for  the  camp  of  the  outlaws,  which 
was  reached  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 

The  refugees,  who  had  meantime  learned  of  the  approach 
of  the  soldiers,  put  themselves  in  an  excellent  position  of  defense 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek,  first  blockading  the  bridge  so 
that  the  horsemen  would  be  unable  to  charge  over  it. 

Upon  the  near  approach  of  the  militiamen  Bacon  and  his  cut- 
throats opened  fire,  one  of  the  first  shots  killing  William  Cooke 
and  seriously  wounding  Robert  Reckless,  for  whom  Reckless- 
town  was  subsequently  named. 

The  refugees  not  only  possessed  better  arms  and  ammuni- 
tion than  the  militia,  but  they  enjoyed  a  strong  defensive  position 
along  the  southerly  side  of  the  creek,  which  was  heavily  wooded. 
This  led  the  attacking  party  to  exercise  the  utmost  wariness. 
Finally  the  militia  reached  and  ensconced  themselves  behind  the 
north  bank  of  the  creek,  which  enabled  them  to  fire  with  deadly 
effect,  and  as  the  militiamen  outnumbered  the  refugees,  the  latter 
having  lost  a  number  of  men,  were  on  the  point  of  giving  way. 
when  the  soldiers  received  a  volley  from  a  party  of  newcomer.- 
which  had  come  upon  them  unawares.  This  attack  from  a  new 
and  unexpected  quarter  threw  the  militiamen  into  disorder,  and 
came  near  precipitating  their  flight. 

The  horsemen  turned  upon  this  new  enemy,  killing  some  and 
taking  others  prisoners.  Among  the  refugees  killed  was  Ichabod 
Johnson,  a  notorious  murderer,  for  whom  Governor  Livingston 
had  offered  a  reward,  dead  or  alive.  Bacon,  although  severely 
wounded,  managed  to  escape,  but  a  few  weeks  later  he  was  sur- 
prised in  his  haunt  at  Egg  Harbor  and  killed  by  a  detachment  of 
Captain  Shreve's  horsemen,  commanded  by  Cornet  Cook. 

The  militiamen  chased  Bacon  and  the  gang  until  darkness 
rendered  further  pursuit  hopeless,  when,  with  their  prisoners 
and  much  property  which  the  refugees  had  stolen,  they  returned 
to  Burlington,  lodging  their  captives  in  the  jail,  which  they  sur- 
rounded with  a  strong  guard. 

Some  of  them  were  tried  and  executed  for  their  foul  crimes. 


106  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


ARNOLD'S  GREAT  NAVAL  BATTLE. 

GENERAL  BENEDICT  ARNOLD,  a  splendid  fighter  so 
long  as  he  was  true  to  manhood  and  the  patriot  cause, 
was  commander  of  the  first  American  fleet  that  ever 
engaged  Great  Britain  in  a  naval  battle. 

Arnold,  who  had  been  a  non-commissioned  officer  in  the 
British  Army  before  the  Revolution,  was  the  best  fighter  in  the 
Continental  Army.  It  was  in  June,  1776,  after  the  American 
force  had  been  driven  out  of  Canada,  and  General  Sullivan  was 
strengthening  Fort  Ticonderoga,  that  General  Arnold  begged 
permission  of  General  Gates,  who  bitterly  hated  Washington,  to 
build  some  boats  so  that  he  could  engage  the  enemy  when  he 
appeared  in  Lake  Champlain,  an  event  naturally  to  be  expected. 
Obtaining  the  desired  permission,  Arnold  got  a  detail  of  men,  and 
set  to  work  constructing  vessels,  and  a  couple  of  months  later 
he  had  launched  his  little  fleet — a  sloop,  three  schooners,  and 
five  gondolas.  The  sloop  was  armed  with  twelve  guns,  one 
schooner  with  the  same  number,  the  others  eight,  and  the  gon- 
dolas three  each.  The  guns  had  formerly  belonged  to  England, 
.and  were  some  of  the  two  hundred  which  Colonel  Ethan  Allen 
had  captured  at  Fort  Ticonderoga  in  the  name  of  the  Great 
Jehovah  and  the  Continental  Congress. 

When  General  Carleton,  who  had  driven  our  army  out  of 
Canada,  learned  what  General  Arnold  was  up  to  he  sent  nearly 
one  thousand  men  from  Quebec  to  St.  Johns,  to  construct  a  fleet 
that  would  be  sufficient  to  destroy  the  American  vessels.  The 
British,  with  everything  at  hand,  soon  completed  their  craft — 
twenty-five  in  number.  One  of  the  vessels,  named  the  "Thun- 
derer," flat  bottomed,  carried  six  24-pounders  and  twelve  six- 
pounders,  the  "Inflexible"  (flagship)  having  eighteen  12-pound- 
ers,  while  each  of  the  twenty-four  gunboats  were  armed  with  a 
field  piece,  all  better  than  anything  Arnold  had. 

About  the  first  of  September  General  Arnold  sailed  down 
the  lake,  with  positive  instructions  not  to  pass  a  given  point, 
and  only  to  act  on  the  defensive.  Faithful  to  his  orders,  Arnold 
cast  anchor  with  his  vessels  across  the  lake  to  prevent  any  of 
the  enemy's  boats  from  passing  up,  or  getting  in  his  rear. 

While  thus  anchored  General  Arnold  discovered  that  he 
was  in  danger  of  being  attacked  and  boarded  by  British  and  In- 
dians who  had  come  down  from  Canada  and  were  encamped  on 
both  shores.  To  evade  an  attack  of  this  character,  he  fell  back 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  107 

toward  his  base  some  ten  miles,  where  his  fleet  was  greatly  aug- 
mented, his  ship-builders  having  kept  at  their  task  all  summer. 
His  fleet,  now  considered  quite  formidable,  consisted  of  three 
schooners,  two  sloops,  three  galleys,  eight  gondolas  and  twenty- 
one  gunboats. 

Arnold,  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  strength  and  composition 
of  the  armament  which  he  knew  Carleton  was  preparing  and 
unwilling  to  engage  what  he  had  every  reason  to  believe  a  supe- 
rior force,  retreated  still  further  up  the  lake,  anchoring  across 
the  narrow  channel  between  Valcour's  Island  and  the  western 
shore  (New  York),  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  British  fleet  and 
there  test  conclusions  on  the  water  for  the  first  time. 

It  was  at  an  early  hour  on  the  morning  of  October  11  that 
the  British  fleet  appeared  off  Cumberland  Head,  and  in  due  time 
it  swept  around  the  southern  point  of  Valcour's  Island.  As  the 
<enemy  approached  General  Arnold,  who  was  on  the  galley  "Con- 
gress" (flagship),  made  a  fervent  speech.  He  said  this  was  the 
first  time  Americans  ever  had  a  chance  to  fight  the  British  on 
water,  and  if  they  acquitted  themselves  as  well  as  they  had  on 
land  he  had  no  fears  as  to  the  result  of  the  engagement.  The 
boys  gave  him  three  cheers  which  went  floating  over  the  broad 
waters,  finding  echoes  in  the  grand  old  hills  beyond. 

The  first  shot  came  richochetting  over  the  wind-perturbed 
waters  of  the  beautiful  and  hitherto  peaceful  lake  from  the 
"Carleton,"  which  at  once  attacked  the  "Royal  Savage"  and 
three  galleys  farthest  advanced  from  our  line.  The  "Royal 
Savage,"  in  trying  to  return,  went  aground,  and  to  save  her  from 
capture  she  was  set  on  fire  and  burned,  the  crew,  however,  es- 
caping. General  Arnold,  on  board  the  "Congress,"  greatly  irri- 
tated over  the  loss  of  the  "Royal  Savage,"  made  for  the  "Carle- 
ton,"  firing  the  first  gun  with  his  own  hands,  and  thus  was  com- 
menced the  first  naval  battle  between  Americans  and  Britons. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  our  men  were  landsmen,  know- 
ing little  or  nothing  about  sailing  or  manoeuvring  on  the  water, 
while  the  British  force,  twice  as  strong  in  every  respect,  was 
composed  of  sailors  taken  from  ships  of  war  at  Quebec.  The 
enemy  thus  possessed  infinite  advantage. 

Throughout  the  entire  afternoon  the  battle  raged  fiercely, 
and  although  the  "Congress"  was  hulled  a  dozen  times,  received 
seven  shots  between  wind  and  water,  the  mainmast  shattered,  the 
rigging  cut  to  pieces,  and  many  of  the  crew  killed  or  wounded, 
General  Arnold,  without  coat  or  hat,  continued  firing.  He  had 
no  thought  of  giving  up,  and  when  not  aiming  and  firing  one 


108  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

gun  or  the  other,  was  busy  in  signaling  to  his  other  vessels,  each 
of  which  was  doing  its  best. 

To  make  matters  worse,  the  British  landed  a  strong  body  of 
Indians  on  the  adjacent  islands,  and  when  near  enough,  they 
picked  off  some  of  our  men.  This  movement  on  the  part  of 
the  British  had  been  anticipated  by  General  Arnold,  and  although 
he  sent  a  few  shots  into  the  woods,  where  nothing  could  be  seen 
except  little  puffs  of  smoke,  he  felt  it  was  dangerous  to  remain 
in  the  position,  and  decided  to  get  away  as  soon  as  darkness 
covered  the  waters. 

When  night  came  both  parties  stopped  fighting  and  an- 
chored within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  each  other.  The  men  were 
literally  exhausted.  General  Arnold,  satisfied  that  he  could  not 
cope  with  the  British  vessels,  superior  in  every  way,  called  his 
officers  together  for  consultation,  when  it  was  determined  to  re- 
tire during  the  night  to  Crown  Point. 

The  British  commander,  not  anticipating  such  a  move  on  our 
part,  anchored  his  vessels  in  double  lines  from  the  island  to  the 
main  land.  This  fact,  known  to  General  Arnold,  was  communi- 
cated to  his  officers,  who  were  given  specific  instructions  as  to 
their  future  action.  Fortunately  the  night  was  wrapped  in  Cim- 
merian gloom.  This  was  the  only  thing  that  saved  us.  It  en- 
abled Arnold  to  get  out  of  a  bad  trap. 

At  about  ten  o'clock  our  vessels  quietly  weighed  anchor,  and 
with  a  good  stiff  wind  from  the  north,  just  what  was  needed, 
and  which  was  Providential,  we  boldly  sailed  entirely  unobserved 
through  two  of  the  enemy's  lines,  Arnold  bringing  up  the  rear 
in  his  crippled  galley,  which  had  stood  the  brunt  of  the  battle.  It 
was  a  bold  movement,  perhaps  unparalleled  for  audacity. 

When  daybreak  came,  after  a  seemingly  interminable  night, 
the  British  must  have  been  thrown  into  a  state  of  surprise  on 
beholding  our  vessels  ten  miles  away.  The  exhausted  Ameri- 
cans had  all  they  could  do  to  stop  the  leaks  in  some  of  the  boats 
to  keep  them  afloat,  and  a  terrible  job  in  trying  to  repair  sails 
and  rigging.  The  British  commander,  doubtless  vexed  at  the 
remarkable  escape,  lost  no  time  in  weighing  anchor  and  in  giving 
pursuit.  Although  he  had  sustained  losses,  he  felt  confidence 
in  his  great  superiority  of  men,  guns  and  ships  and  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  renew  the  engagement. 

The  veering  of  the  wind  from  the  north  to  the  south  about 
noon  greatly  retarded  both  fleets,  and  night  again  coming  on, 
anchors  were  cast.  The  night,  to  Arnold's  view,  was  appar- 
ently unending.  His  men  were  wet,  hungry  and  absolutely  ex- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  109 

"hausted.  Morning,  however,  did  come,  and  with  it  the  British 
fleet.  General  Arnold,  finding  the  enemy  fast  overhauling  him, 
dropped  to  the  rear  with  the  "Congress,"  "Washington"  and 
four  gondolas,  hoping  thus  to  allow  his  other  vesses  to  escape. 
When  the  three  largest  British  vessels — "Carleton."  "Inflexible," 
and  "Maria"  (General  Carleton  being  on  the  last  named),  came 
within  distance  of  the  American  rearguard,  they  opened  a  fierce 
fire,  to  which  our  folks  replied  with  all  the  spirit  left  in  them. 
The  "Washington"  soon  struck,  her  commander,  .General  Water- 
bury,  and  his  crew  surrendering. 

Then  the  three  British  ships  united  in  an  attack  upon  the 
"Congress."  They  poured  a  rain  of  iron  hail  upon  the  Ameri- 
can boats,  General  Arnold,  still  undaunted,  with  a  red  hand- 
kerchief bound  tightly  about  his  head,  running  from  one  gun  to 
another  directing  their  fire.  He  was  perfectly  insensibe  to  fear, 
and  although  splinters  and  shot  flew  about  him,  he  escaped 
serious  wounds. 

For  four  long  hours  the  British  continued  their  attack  upon 
the  "Congress,"  as  they  knew  General  Arnold  was  on  board  and 
in  supreme  command.  Finally  other  vessels  took  part  in  the 
merciless  attack  upon  the  "Congress,"  and  at  one  time  no  less 
than  seven  of  the  biggest  British  ships  were  pouring  in  a  terrible 
fire. 

When  Arnold  at  last  saw  further  resistance  was  futile,  deter- 
mined never  to  surrender,  he  ran  the  "Congress"  and  his  four 
gondolas  ashore  about  ten  miles  from  Crown  Point,  where  he  set 
them  on  fire  and  waited  to  see  them  consumed.  He  was  the  last 
man  to  leave  the  "Congress,"  having  remained  on  board  to  su- 
perintend the  removal  of  the  dead  and  wounded.  When  the 
men  left  the  vessels  they  took  along  muskets  and  ammunition, 
and  it  was  well  they  were  able  to  do  so,  as  on  the  march  to 
Crown  Point  they  were  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  attacked  by 
a  body  of  Indians,  with  whom  they  had  a  stiff  fight  for  an  hour, 
finally  putting  them  to  flight. 

Notwithstanding  the  defeat  and  the  disastrous  termination 
of  the  expedition,  the  efforts  of  the  soldier-sailors  were  lauded 
throughout  the  country.  Arnold's  popularity,  gained  at  Que- 
bec, was  immeasurably  increased,  and  the  army  and  people 
shouted  his  praises.  After  a  few  years,  he  became  tired  of  fight- 
ing for  his  native  land,  tried  to  sell  it  for  a  mess  of  pottage  and 
after  his  perfidy  lived  and  died  a  man  without  a  country. 


110  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


OPERATIONS  OF  A  NOTED  SCOUT. 

ONE  of  the  most  daring  partisan  rangers  in  the  employ  of 
this  state  during  the  Revolutionary  War  was  Baker  Hen- 
dricks,  a  native  of  Elizabethtown,  a  cousin  of  the  Hetfield 
outlaws.    In  the  early  part  of  the  war,  after  the  British  landed  on 
Staten   Island,   Hendricks   efficiently  served   Washington  as  a 
scout.     His  thorough  knowledge  of  cowpaths  and  trails  on  the 
island,  and  an  extended  acquaintance  among  the  people  there, 
qualified  him  for  the  dangerous  duty  of  a  spy. 

In  1780  Governor  Livingston  commissioned  Hendricks  as  a 
captain.  At  this  time  he  was  twenty-four  years  old,  and  from 
then  on  till  the  end  of  the  war,  he  conducted  operations  on  land 
and  on  water. 

He  soon  attracted  a  number  of  young  men,  and  fitting  out 
two  whale-boats,  which  he  named  "Flying  Squirrel"  and 
"Charming  Betsy,"  he  became  a  terror  to  the  refugees  on  the 
island. 

On  one  occasion  Hendricks,  with  a  dozen  men,  crossed  over 
to  the  island  in  the  night  time  to  recapture  a  lot  of  cattle  which 
had  been  stolen  from  our  people.  Being  discovered  by  the 
First  Regiment  of  New  Jersey  Volunteers  (refugees),  Hendricks 
was  compelled  to  retire,  but  he  contested  every  foot  of  the 
ground  from  Salter's  house  to  the  water.  Hendricks  was  slightly 
wounded  while  getting  into  his  boat. 

Captain  Hendricks  was  a  source  of  great  annoyance  to  peo- 
ple on  Staten  Island  and  Bergen  Point,  whom  he  took  great 
delight  in  attacking  whenever  opportunity  presented  itself.  He 
made  frequent  trips  along  the  sound,  capturing  piquets  and  any 
property  that  could  be  used  by  the  Continental  Army  or  the 
militia. 

One  very  cold  night  in  December,  1782,  Hendricks  sailed 
into  the  Kills,  and  captured  a  British  sloop,  armed  with  two 
small  cannon.  He  took  the  crew  prisoners,  and  would  have 
brought  the  vessel  to  this  town,  but  as  she  ran  aground  near 
Shooters's  Island,  the  captain  stripped  her  of  arms,  sails,  rig- 
ging, cable,  anchor  and  long  boat,  and  set  her  on  fire. 

It  has  long  been  thought  that  the  iron  field  piece  recently 
mounted  at  Connecticut  Farms  (Union  Village)  was  one  of  the 
two  cannon  captured  on  this  occasion  by  Captain  Hendricks. 

Despite  his  many  adventures  and  the  great  injury  he  in- 
flicted on  the  enemy  on  the  island  and  at  Bergen  Point,  he  was 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS. 


finally  suspected  of  illicit  intercourse,  and  Governor 

felt  compelled  to  demand  the  return  of  the  state  commission 

he  had  three  vears  before  issued  to  him. 


HETFIELDS  CAPTURED  TWO  OFFICERS. 

THE  humiliating  defeats  sustained  by  the  British  force  at 
Connecticut  Farms  June  7,  1870,  and  again  at  Springfield 
on  the  twenty-third  of  the  same  month  by  illy-clad  and 
poorly  armed  farmer  boys  caused  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  the  British 
commander-in-chief,  to  relinquish  all  further  hope  of  penetrating 
Washington's  lines  among  and  beyond  the  Short  Hills,  and  dur- 
ing the  continuance  of  the  war  the  people  in  this  section  enjoyed 
a  feeling  of  comparative  safety,  notwithstanding  the  continued 
presence  of  a  large  force  of  the  enemy  on  Staten  Island. 

Although  no  further  movements  on  a  large  scale  were  made 
in  this  direction  by  the  enemy,  predatory  raids  were  of  frequent 
occurrence.  These  were  chiefly  confined  to  the  capture  of  prom- 
inent citizens,  to  be  held  as  hostages,  and  the  stealing  of  cattle. 
The  regular  British  troops  took  no  part  in  these  midnight  for- 
ages after  the  battle  of  Springfield,  the  bitter  and  unforgiving 
refugees  from  this  and  other  colonies  alone  participating  with 
fiendish  glee  when  successful.  Chief  among  the  gangs  which 
visited  this  town  repeatedly  during  1780,  was  that  led  by  Cap- 
tain Smith  Hetfield  and  his  brother,  Captain  Cornelius  Hetfield. 
who,  having  been  driven  from  Elizabethtown  after  the  outbreak 
of  the  war,  took  refuge  on  Staten  Island,  where  they  were  petted 
and  encouraged  by  British  commanders  for  several  years.  The 
Hetfields  attained  notoriety  by  their  activity  and  dare-deviltry. 
Insensible  to  fear,  they  had  no  mercy  on  those  who  fell  into 
their  hands,  as  was  the  case  with  Stephen  Ball,  a  resident  of 
Rahway,  who,  having  permission  to  trade  on  Staten  Island,  was 
pursuing  his  peaceful  calling,  when  he  was  rudely  pounced  upon 
and  taken  prisoner  by  Cornelius  Hetfield,  who  without  judge  or 
jury,  hung  him  at  Bergen  Point,  because  he  was  afraid  to  per- 
petrate the  dastard  crime  on  the  island,  the  British  commander 
there  having  refused  to  adjudge  Mr.  Ball  guilty  of  being  a  spy. 
as  Hetfield  alleged. 

The  Hetfield  brothers,  born  in  a  house  still  standing  at  the 
southerly  end  of  Pearl  street,  and  known  to  our  oldest  people  as 
"Paradise  Farm,"  had  an  intimate  knowledge  of  this  part  of  the 
country.  They  were  familiar  with  every  nook  and  crook,  and 


112  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

acquainted  with  nearly  every  family   in  what  is  now  circum- 
scribed by  the  bounds  of  Union  County. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  November  4,  that  Smith  and  Cor- 
nelius Hetfield  and  half  a  dozen  other  wild  and  adventurous 
spirits,  after  crossing  the  sound  in  a  flat-bottomed  scow,  dise 
barked  where  Tremley  now  stands,  remounted  their  horses  and 
quickly  reached  Elizabethtown.  They  came  with  the  avowed 
intention  of  capturing  Colonel  Matthias  Ogden,  of  the  First 
New  Jersey  Regiment,  and  Captain  Jonathan  Dayton,  paymas- 
ter of  the  Third  New  Jersey  Regiment,  whom  they  had  previously 
learned  were  at  their  homes  there.  The  Hetfields  bitterly  hated 
these  patriot  officers,  and  had  long  threatened  to  punish  them. 

Ascertaining  that  Colonel  Ogden  and  Captain  Dayton  were 
temporarily  stopping  at  William  Herd's  home  at  Connecticut 
Farms,  the  Hetfield  party  rode  rapidly  there,  and,  surrounding 
the  house  before  the  inmates  were  aware  of  their  presence,  they 
burst  in  the  doors  and  called  upon  all  to  surrender.  Resistance 
under  such  circumstances  being  futile,  the  two  American  officers 
keenly  feeling  the  disgrace  of  having  been  thus  caught  napping, 
hastily  made  their  toilet  and  surrendered  with  as  much  grace  as 
possible. 

The  Hetfield  gang,  after  binding  and  gagging  the  two  offi- 
cers, compelled  Mrs.  Herd  to  provide  a  repast,  and  while  she 
was  thus  engaged,  "Pomp,"  a  colored  slave,  was  kept  busy  in 
serving  the  party  with  apple  whisky  of  a  prime  quality,  and  on 
which  Mr.  Herd  fondly  doted. 

After  refreshing  themselves  the  raiders  bade  their  host 
bring  forth  two  of  his  best  horses,  and  on  these  animals  Colonel 
Ogden  and  Captain  Dayton  were  mounted  for  the  long  and  hasty 
ride  to  Staten  Island,  which  they  reached  in  safety. 


RAHWAY  IN  THE  REVOLUTION. 

WHILE  no  battle  of  great  consequence  was  fought  in  Rah- 
way(  then  called  Spanktown)  during  the  eight  years  of 
the  Revolutionary  War,  the  people  of  that  patriotic  vil- 
lage neglected  no  opportunity  of  serving  the  patriot  cause.    The 
place  was  frequently  raided  by  the  enemy  from  Staten  Island 
and  Woodbridge,  and  the  most  prominent  citizens  carried  off 
as  hostages. 

The  hardest  battle  in  Rahway  took  place  early  in  January. 
1777,  when  General  William  Maxwell,  with  his  Jersey  brigade. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  113 

came  down  from  the  Short  Hills,  and  attacked  a  strong  regi- 
ment of  British  regulars  posted  there. 

After  a  two  hours'  fight,  the  enemy  was  driven  out  of  Rah^ 
way  in  the  direction  of  Woodbridge. 

General  Maxwell,  feeling  that  he  could  not  hold  the  place 
in  the  event  of  an  advance  of  the  enemy  from  Woodbridge,  took 
possession  of  one  thousand  bushels  of  salt,  a  condiment  sadly 
needed  by  the  American  troops,  and  had  scarcely  loaded  it  on 
wagons  for  transportation  to  our  lines,  when  a  large  force  sud- 
denly came  up  from  Woodbridge,  necessitating  the  retreat  of 
the  Americans  to  Elizabethtown,  which  was  successfuly  accom- 
plished. 

The  winter  of  1779-80  was  one  of  awful  severity.  Snow 
fell  in  January  to  a  depth  of  five  or  six  feet,  while  the  waters 
surrounding  Staten  Island  were  frozen  so  solid  that  the  ice  af- 
forded better  means  of  locomotion  than  the  few  unbeaten  road' 
ways.  This  ice-bridge  made  it  easy  for  the  British  and  tories  on 
Staten  Island  to  cross  and  re-cross  as  inclination  led  them. 

It  was  on  Sunday  night,  January  30,  that  a  small  force  of 
mounted  refugees  (traitorous  Jerseymen)  crossed  over  from 
Staten  Island,  and  dashed  into  Rahway  before  their  presence  was 
discovered. 

Lieutenant  Wynantz  and  eight  privates  who  had  been  en- 
trusted by  Colonel  Jaques  with  the  protection  of  the  village, 
instead  of  attending  to  guard  duty,  were  out  on  a  sleigh-riding 
excursion,  and  when  the  British  commander  learned  a  fandango 
was  in  progress  at  Lindsley's  corner,  he  and  his  party  galloped 
to  the  spot,  and  surrounding  the  hostelry,  summoned  the  revelers 
to  surrender,  which  they  did  with  as  much  grace  as  possible. 

After  the  lieutenant  and  his  men  had  been  disarmed  and 
secured,  the  Britishers  bade  the  musicians  strike  up,  and,  each 
seizing  a  girl,  went  through  a  mazy  waltz. 

This  concluded,  the  British  officer  thanked  the  young  ladies 
for  the  pleasure  afforded,  and  securing  the  American  soldiers 
within  their  own  handsome  sleighs,  the  enemy  drove  away,  leav- 
ing the  disappointed  Rahway  lasses  to  get  to  their  homes  the 
best  way  they  could. 

Before  daylight  the  American  warriors  crossed  the  sound 
on  the  ice  at  Tremley's  Point,  and  on  the  following  day  went  on 
to  New  York  City,  where  their  arrival  created  much  amusement 
among  the  British  soldiers. 


1 14  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


HOW  SOLDIER  TRAPPED  BANDIT. 

WHILE  the  people  of  New  Jersey  were  sorely  tried  during 
the  Revolutionary  War  by  almost  constant  raids  of 
British  soldiers  and  renegade  Jerseymen  who  took  re- 
fuge on   Staten  Island,  shortly  after  the  landing  there  of  the 
British  army  in  1776,  and  greatly  suffered  by  the  loss  of  cattle 
and  movable  property,  their  condition  was  scarcely  worse  than 
that  of  the  inhabitants  in  Monmouth  and  other  counties  along 
the  coast. 

The  pine-tree  country  especially  was  infested  in  those  trou- 
blous times  by  numerous  bands  of  robbers,  who  lived  in  caves 
burrowed  in  the  side  of  the  sand  hills,  as  near  swamps  and  in 
such  secluded  spots  as  could  be  found.  These  caves,  carefully 
covered  with  brush,  were  scarcely  discernible,  even  at  a  short 
distance,  while  the  trails  leading  to  the  retreats  were  disguised 
as  much  as  posible  by  the  crafty  robbers,  who  preyed  upon  rich 
and  poor  alike. 

The  inhabitants,  living  in  a  constant  state  of  terror,  were 
compelled,  for  their  own  safety,  to  go  armed,  whether  at  work 
in  the  fields  or  at  the  house  of  worship. 

The  acts  of  these  marauders  at  length  became  so  numerous 
and  audacious  that  Governor  Livingston  offered  large  rewards 
for  their  death  or  capture.  During  the  last  three  years  of  the 
war  the  desperadoes  were  hunted  and  shot  like  wild  beasts,  and 
when  peace  was  declared  but  few  of  the  villains  were  alive,  so 
thorough  had  been  the  work  of  extirpation. 

Among  the  more  notorious  villains  who  gloated  in  crime 
was  a  fellow  known  as  Fenton,  a  big  strapping  fellow,  who  in 
his  youth,  learned  the  trade  of  a  blacksmith  in  Freehold.  When 
the  war  broke  out  he  quit  honest  work  and  organized  a  gang 
which  took  refuge  in  the  sand  hills,  near  Red  Bank.  From  this 
covert  he  and  his  men  sailed  out  at  night  for  robbery  and  rapine 
On  one  occasion  Fenton  robbed  the  shop  of  a  tailor,  carrying 
away  much  apparel.  Word  was  sent  to  Fenton  that  unless  he 
surrendered  the  stolen  goods  within  a  week,  he  would  be  shot 
on  sight.  He  complied,  accompanying  the  return  of  the  goods 
with  the  following  note : 

"I  have  returned  your  damned  rags.  In  a  short  time  I 
am  coming  to  burn  your  barns  and  homes,  and  roast  you  all 
alike  as  a  pack  of  kittens." 

It  was  in  August,  1779,  that  Fenton  and  his  gang  attacked 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  115 

the  dwelling  of  Thomas  Farr,  near  where  Imlaystown  now 
stands.  Mr.  Farr  and  wife,  both  aged  people,  and  a  daughter 
barricaded  the  door  with  logs  of  wood,  and  the  gang  being  un- 
able to  force  an  entrance  into  the  house,  fired  a  volley  of  rifle 
bullets,  one  of  which  wounded  Mr.  Farr,  rendering  him  helpless 

The  gang  finally  gained  entrance  by  a  back  door,  and  mur- 
dered Mrs.  Farr,  then  finished  their  fiendish  work  by  beating 
her  husband  to  death  as  he  lay  upon  the  floor.  The  daughter, 
although  badly  wounded,  succeeded  in  getting  away  and  reach- 
ing the  home  of  a  neighbor,  two  miles  distant.  The  murderers 
fearing  pursuit,  incontinently  fled,  and  in  their  haste  to  secure 
safety,  left  the  plunder  behind. 

Fenton,  after  perpetrating  many  enormities,  and  in  making 
his  name  a  terror  to  people  in  South  Jersey,  was  finally  killed 
near  where  Blue  Belle  is  located. 

Fenton  and  his  confederate,  Burke,  beat  and  robbed  a  young 
miller  named  Van  Mater  of  his  dinner  while  on  his  way  to 
work.  Van  Mater,  although  suffering  from  injuries  received  at 
the  hands  of  Fenton  and  Burke,  made  his  way  to  Freehold, 
where  he  reported  the  outrage  to  the  commandant  of  a  portion 
of  Lee's  Legion,  then  on  duty  in  that  section. 

The  lieutenant  at  once  detailed  a  sergeant  and  two  soldiers 
to  accompany  Van  Mater,  who  was  sure  Fenton  and  Burke 
were  at  a  groggery,  near  where  the  assault  took  place.  A 
wagon  was  procured,  on  the  bottom  of  which  lay  the  two  armed 
soldiers,  covered  with  hay,  while  the  sergeant,  acting  as  driver, 
and  Van  Mater  sat  on  the  seat  in  front. 

True  enough,  as  the  vehicle  reached  the  groggery,  Fenton 
came  out,  pistol  in  hand,  and  ordered  them  to  stop,  saying  to 
Van  Mater :  "You  damned  rascal !  I  gave  you  such  a  lickin' 
I  thought  you  would  never  agin  show  your  head.  Where  are 
you  goin'?" 

"To  the  salt  works,"  was  the  reply. 

"Have  you  got  any  brandy?"  asked  Fenton. 

"Yes !  Will  you  have  a  drink  ?"  asked  Van  Mater,  handing 
him  a  bottle. 

Fenton  was  in  the  act  of  taking  a  drink  when  the  sergeant 
touched  the  foot  of  a  soldier,  who  sprang  up  and  shot  the  des- 
perado through  the  head,  scattering  it  over  the  side  of  the 
vehicle. 

Burke,  who  was  in  the  woods  nearby,  hearing  the  report  of 
the  soldier's  gun,  and  supposing  it  to  be  a  signal  from  his  pal. 
discharged  his  rifle  in  answer. 


116  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

The  sergeant  and  his  men  hastened  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound,  and  when  Burke  saw  them  approaching  he  took  to  his 
heels,  making  good  his  escape. 

The  soldiers,  returning  to  the  wagon,  threw  Fenton's  car- 
cass into  the  vehicle  and  drove  with  all  possible  speed  to  Free- 
hold, where  they  jerked  out  the  corpse  by  the  feet,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  wild  animal,  and,  throwing  it  upon  the  ground,  said  to 
the  crowd  which  had  assembled:  "Here  is  a  cordial  for  you 
tories  and  wood  robbers." 


GUNS  AND  POWDER  IN  REVOLUTION. 

IT  is  not  generally  known  that  the  active  train  of  field  artillery 
possessed  by  the  American  colonies  at  the  commencement 

of  the  Revolutionary  War  consisted  of  but  four  guns.  A 
few  weeks  after  the  battle  of  Lexington,  General  Artemas  Ward, 
in  assuming  command  of  the  Revolutionists,  then  besieging  Bos- 
ton, found  only  one  six-pounder  and  half  a  dozen  three-pound- 
ers, all  smooth-bores,  in  possession  of  his  forces.  Had  not 
Ethan  Allen  captured  Fort  Ticonderoga,  with  its  200  guns,  the 
siege  of  Boston  and  the  battle  of  Breed's  Hill  (misnamed  Bunker 
Hill)  would  have  been  a  miserable  fiasco  and  a  lamentable  fail- 
ure. It  must  have  been  painful  and  humiliating  to  General  Gage, 
the  British  commander,  whenever  he  heard  a  Yankee  gun  in 
that  battle,  to  realize  that  it  was  his  "own  thunder." 

While  other  colonies  may  have  turned  out  revolutionary 
cannon  before  the  establishment  of  furnaces  and  foundries  in 
New  Jersey,  our  commonwealth  early  in  the  war  chiefly  supplied 
Washington's  army  with  ordinance,  and,  I  may  add,  powder  as 
well.  This  was  done  at  Mt.  Hope  and  Hibernia,  in  Morris 
County,  where  the  necessary  materials  were  conveniently  at 
hand. 

The  first  cannon  constructed  in  New  Jersey  were  iron  and 
of  primitive  pattern,  owing  to  the  difficulty  of  securing  designs. 
The  first  castings,  made  in  Morris  County,  were  moulded  from 
guns  taken  at  Ticonderoga,  and  it  was  not  until  the  beautiful 
field  pieces,  some  of  them  brass,  surrendered  by  Burgoyne  at 
Saratoga,  could  be  taken  to  Morris  County  that  our  people  were 
able  to  secure  desirable  models  and  turn  out  weapons  more  to 
their  liking. 

One  of  the  first  guns  cast  at  Mount  Hope  can  now  be  seen 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  117 

mounted  on  wheels  near  the  old  Presbyterian  Church  at  Con- 
necticut Farms.  It  was  probably  used  for  the  first  time  in  the 
battle  there  June  7,  1780. 

Our  little  army  was  in  desperate  straits  for  artillery  when* 
Washington  was  driven  through  New  Jersey  late  in  the  fall  of 
1776,  and  the  capture  of  six  splendid  field  guns  at  Trenton 
Christmas  night  gave  the  greatest  cause  for  rejoicing  to  the 
patriots.  But  their  loss,  with  five  other  guns,  at  Brandywine 
later  on  had  a  most  depressing  and  disheartening  effect  on  our 
people. 

While  New  Jersey  may  be  said  to  have  led  the  way  in  the 
manufacture  of  field  artillery,  however  crude  in  form  and  finish, 
it  can  also  be  stated  to  the  credit  of  its  enterprising  and  patriotic 
citizens  that  our  commonwealth  was  the  first  to  respond  to 
Washington's  stirring  appeal  for  a  supply  of  gunpowder.  It 
was  the  great  want  of  powder  at  Bunker  Hill,  more  than  any- 
thing else,  that  caused  the  failure  of  our  brave  little  army  to 
drive  back  the  trained  British  host. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  first  supply  of  powder  sent 
to  Washington,  at  Cambridge,  was  forwarded  him  by  the  ener- 
getic Public  Safety  Committee  of  Elizabethtown.  This  was 
purchased  by  the  committee  in  Philadelphia,  a  round  price  being 
demanded  by  the  "patriots"  of  that  town.  This  supply,  fifty 
quarter  kegs,  was  brought  to  Elizabethtown  in  wagons,  and 
sent  on  by  other  teams,  which  went  to  Cambridge  by  way  of 
Dobbs'  Ferry,  over  the  Hudson  River.  Washington  expressed 
fervent  thanks  to  the  Elizabethown  people  for  the  "timely  con- 
tribution." 

The  Elizabethtown  committee  in  July,  1775,  to  encourage 
the  manufacture  of  saltpeter  and  gunpowder,  as  well  as  to  aid 
the  patriotic  army,  to  whose  interests  it  was  devoted,  publicly 
offered  to  pay  $1,000  for  every  100  pounds  of  saltpeter  made 
within  the  town  limits.  This  had  the  effect  of  promptly  starting 
the  manufacture  of  that  commodity,  the  old  mill  on  South  Broad 
Street,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  just  below  the  Court  House 
which  John  Ogden,  one  of  the  first  settlers,  had  erected  there  in 
1665,  being  used  for  the  purpose. 

In  less  than  two  months  after  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill 
the  Elizabethown  committee  forwarded  to  Washington  nearly 
seven  tons  of  powder  manufactured  in  the  town,  and  received  a 
graceful  letter  of  thanks  from  the  commander-in-chief,  who  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  the  arrival  of  the  cargo  had  "immeasur- 
ably revived  the  hopes  of  the  army  and  relieved  immediate  press- 


118  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

ing  necessities."  When  this  supply  reached  Washington  his 
soldiers  had  but  nine  rounds  each  in  their  cartridge  boxes. 

This  cargo  of  powder  was  conveyed  to  the  army  in  wagons, 
drawn  by  horses  and  oxen,  nearly  two  weeks  being  consumed 
in  the  long  journey.  To  allay  supicion  on  the  part  of  the  curi- 
ously inclined,  the  kegs  were  well  covered  with  grain  and  hay. 

The  odd-looking  caravan,  which  reached  Cambridge  with- 
out mishap,  was  joyfully  hailed  by  the  soldiers,  as  well  as  by 
Washington  and  his  officers,  and  during  the  brief  sojourn  of  the 
Elizabethtown  farmer  boys,  they  were  the  recipients  of  much 
attention  and  manv  courtesies  from  the  soldiers. 


HEROIC  ACTION  OF  GRANDSON. 

EASTERN  NEW  JERSEY,  from  the  time  the  British  landed 
on  the  easterly  shore  of  Staten  Island  to  the  end  of  the 
war  in  1783,  suffered  greatly  from  incursions  of  the  British 
troops  and  their  willing  allies,  Americans  who  preferred  the 
rule  of  King  George  to  the  enjoyment  of  liberty  and  indepen- 
dence. The  tories,  or  renegades,  or  refugees,  or  loyal  Americans, 
as  they  liked  to  call  themselves,  took  up  arms  against  their 
former  neighbors,  friends  and  kin.  Some  of  them  delighted  in 
annoying  and  robbing  their  relatives,  but  in  no  section  of  the 
state  were  the  atrocities  so  bad  and  numerous  as  in  the  county 
of  Monmouth,  where  families  were  so  divided  that  fathers  and 
sons  took  different  sides,  and  in  some  cases  fought  each  other 
to  death. 

The  patriots  of  Monmouth  County,  from  Freehold  to  the 
coast,  were  in  a  constant  state  of  alarm  and  terror,  owing  to  the 
large  number  of  refugees  who  lived  on  the  proceeds  of  their 
crimes.  Most  of  these  murderers  and  robbers  lived  in  caves  bur- 
rowed in  the  sand,  while  others  found  safety  in  dense  swamps 
and  in  the  pine  tree  thickets. 

I  have  already  given  chapters  of  bloody  crimes  committed 
by  some  of  the  gangs  infesting  that  region,  and  will  supplement 
them  by  narrating  a  murderous  raid  made  by  refugees  and 
negroes  from  Sandy  Hook  in  April,  1780.  The  banditti  landed 
from  boats  at  Shrewsbury,  and  plundered  several  houses. 

The  landing  was  made  just  after  dusk,  when  some  of  the 
raiders,  natives  of  Shrewsbury  and  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  people  and  the  country  round  about,  repaired  to  the  home 
of  William  Russell,  who  attempted  to  defend  his  home  and  a 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  119 

young  grandson,  who  happened  to  be  with  him  at  the  time.  Mr. 
Russell,  although  sixty  years  of  age  and  quite  infirm,  opened 
fire  on  the  gang,  which  so  enraged  the  attacking  party  that  it 
made  a  rush  for  the  dwelling,  and,  bursting  in  the  door,  seized 
the  old  man  whom  they  were  in  the  act  of  murdering,  when 
young  Russell,  who  lay  wounded  upon  the  floor,  raised  himself 
up  and  shot  William  Gillian,  who  had  his  grandfather  by  the 
throat.  John  Farmham,  like  Gillian,  a  native  of  the  village,  then 
aimed  his  musket  at  young  Russell,  but  as  the  weapon  was  dis- 
charged, Joshua  Lippincott,  one  of  the  band,  a  relative  of  the 
boy,  knocked  up  the  barrel  and  thus  saved  his  life. 

The  gang,  after  seizing  all  the  plunder  they  could  take  with 
them,  captured  Captain  Warner  of  the  privateer  brig  "Eliza- 
beth," who  secured  his  release  by  giving  the  marauders  two  jugs 
of  rum.  Other  citizens,  however,  were  not  so  fortunate,  and 
among  those  taken  as  prisoners  were  Captain  James  Green  and 
Ensign  John  Morris,  of  the  militia,  and  several  citizens. 


DIED  FOR  THE  CAUSE. 

CAPTAIN  JOSHUA  HUDDY,  who,  during  the  Revolu- 
tionary War,  lived  at  what  is  now  Colt's  Neck,  within  five 
miles  of  Freehold,  in  Monmouth  County,  was  a  daring 
patriot,  and  gave  his  life  for  the  cause  of  American  liberty.  He 
performed  many  gallant  acts  during  the  war,  and  punished  the 
tories  in  that  section  at  every  opportunity. 

During  the  summer  of  1780  a  large  party  of  refugees  landed 
at  Black  Point,  between  Shrewsbury  and  Navesink  rivers,  and 
made  a  desperate  attack  at  night  on  his  dwelling.  The  assailants 
were  commanded  by  a  negro  named  Tye  or  Titus.  Captain 
Huddy  and  a  servant-girl  named  Lucretia  Emmons,  age  twenty 
years,  were  the  only  occupants  of  the  house. 

Fortunately  for  Captain  Huddy,  several  muskets  had  been 
left  in  the  house  by  the  home-guard,  generally  on  duty  in  the 
vicinity,  but  who  at  the  moment  were  absent  at  their  homes, 
and  these  the  captain,  with  the  aid  of  Miss  Emmons,  who  kept 
the  weapons  loaded,  made  good  use  of.  Huddy,  to  deceive 
the  enemy,  discharged  the  guns  from  different  windows,  convey- 
ing the  impression  that  the  guards  were  assisting  him  in  the 
defense.  Huddy  wounded  several  of  the  gang,  and  at  last 
seriously  wounded  Tye  in  the  arm,  from  the  effects  of  which 
he  subsequently  died.  When  wounded,  Tye  was  in  the  act  of  set- 


120  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

ting  fire  to  Huddy's  home.  Finding  the  flames  gaining  great 
headway,  and  desirous  of  saving  the  life  of  the  young  woman 
who  had  rendered  great  assistance,  Huddy  raised  a  white  flag,. 
and  offered  to  surrender,  providing  the  enemy  would  extinguisli 
the  flames  and  save  his  house  from  destruction. 

The  assailants  were  glad  to  comply  with  the  request,  but 
on  entering  the  habitation  worked  themselves  into  a  state  of 
exasperation  on  finding  the  garrison  consisted  solely  of  Huddy 
and  the  girl. 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  Tye  could  restrain  his  gang 
from  murdering  Huddy  and  Miss  Emmons.  Hearing  of  the 
hurried  approach  of  militiamen,  Tye  bade  Miss  Emmons  leave  the 
place,  then  binding  Huddy  and  collecting  his  cattle  and  sheep,  the 
party  fled  precipitately.  The  militiamen  gave  rapid  pursuit,  killing 
six  of  the  desperadoes  and  wounding  several  others.  The  stolen 
cattle  were  recovered  at  the  first  creek,  which  Tye  and  his  gang 
hastily  forded. 

Tye  and  his  gang  had  scarcely  embarked  in  their  boats 
when  the  militiamen  reached  the  bank  and  opened  a  destruc- 
tive fire.  Huddy,  overjoyed  at  the  appearance  of  his  friends, 
sprang  into  the  water  and  swam  ashore,  thus  escaping  impris- 
onment, if  nothing  worse. 

In  March,  1782,  Huddy,  in  command  of  a  block  house  at 
Tom's  River,  found  himself  attacked  by  a  large  force  of  tories 
from  New  York  and  Staten  Island.  He  made  a  stubborn  and 
gallant  resistance,  fighting  until  his  ammunition  was  exhausted, 
when  he  reluctantly  surrendered.  Huddy  was  heavily  ironed 
and  imprisoned  on  a  British  guard  ship  at  Sandy  Hook,  while 
his  men  were  confined  in  the  sugar  house  in  New  York  City, 
and  not  exchanged  until  the  end  of  the  war. 

While  confined  on  the  ship  Captain  Huddy  was  told  that 
he  was  to  be  hanged  for  having  captured  Philip  White,  a  noto- 
rious tory  in  Monmouth  County,  cut  off  both  his  arms,  pulled 
out  one  of  his  eyes,  broke  his  legs,  damned  him  and  then  bid  him 
run.  Huddy  indignantly  denied  the  allegation,  saying  he  was 
a  prisoner  in  New  York  at  the  time,  and  had  been  for  several 
weeks  before  White  was  maltreated.  Although  his  statement  was 
corroborated  by  several  of  his  comrades,  Huddy,  four  days 
afterward  (April  12)  was  taken  by  sixteen  tories  (some  of  them 
former  neighbors)  commanded  by  Captain  Lippincott,  to  the 
seashore  at  the  foot  of  Navesink  Hills,  a  mile  north  of  the  pres- 
ent Highland  lighthouses,  and  deliberately  executed.  While 
standing  upon  a  barrel  under  a  gallows  made  of  three  rails 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  121 

placed  on  the  beach,  with  a  rope  about  his  neck,  Captain  Huddy 
asked  for  pen,  ink  and  paper,  and  wrote  his  will,  his  handwriting" 
being  plainer  than  usual,  so  much  composed  was  he  in  his  last 
moments  on  earth. 

To  the  credit  of  some  of  the  executioners  be  it  said  they 
objected  to  the  hanging,  declaring  it  was  their  belief  that  Huddy~ 
was  an  innocent  man.  Captain  Lippincott,  on  learning  this  fact, 
drew  his  sword  and  swore  he  would  kill  the  first  man  who  dis- 
obeyed his  orders.  The  mutineers  were  cowed,  and  Captain 
Huddy's  body  soon  dangled  between  earth  and  sky. 

The  next  day  the  corpse  was  cut  down,  removed  to  Free- 
hold, and  buried  with  the  honors  of  war,  a  large  body  of  minute- 
men  attending.  And  this  finished  a  brave  man  and  determined 
patriot. 


ATTEMPTS  TO  CAPTURE  GENERALS. 

FROM  time  immemorial  attempts  have  been  made  by  ad- 
venturous spirits  to  capture  generals  in  time  of  war.  The 
first  attempt  of  this  kind  in  this  country  was  in  1777, 
just  previous  to  the  battle  of  Long  Island,  when,  for  British  gold, 
a  number  of  so-called  Americans,  including  a  Continental  soldier 
named  Thomas  Hickey,  conspired  to  seize  and  carry  off  General 
Washington,  who  had  his  headquarters  in  New  York  City.  The 
nefarious  plan  failed,  because  a  woman  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
American  liberty,  overheard  the  conspirators  and  was  enabled  to 
thwart  their  designs.  Hickey,  who  was  on  duty  at  Washington's 
headquarters,  and  had  been  very  active  in  furthering  the  scheme, 
was  tried,  found  guilty  and  hung. 

The  capture  of  General  Prescott,  a  petty  tyrant,  commanding 
the  British  force  on  Rhode  Island,  a  month  later  than  the  Wash- 
ington incident,  was  one  of  the  most  successful  affairs  of  the  kind 
ever  attempted.  Prescott  was  one  of  the  most  tyrannical 
commanders  that  England  ever  sent  to  this  country.  He  was 
of  aristocratic  birth  and  a  favorite  with  George  III.  His  over- 
bearing and  haughty  manners,  together  with  his  lack  of  human 
sympathy,  so  incensed  Rhode  Islanders  against  him  that  Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel William  Barton,  a  native  of  Providence  serving  in 
the  Continental  Army,  decided  to  attempt  his  capture,  and  thus 
rid  his  friends  at  home  of  his  unwelcome  presence. 

The  British  general,  on  reaching  Rhode  Island,  had  taken 


122  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

possession  of  the  spacious  house  and  grounds  of  a  Quaker  named 
Overring,  located  five  miles  above  Newport,  and  Colonel  Barton, 
having  learned  this  fact,  organized  a  party  from  his  regiment, 
and  embarking  in  four  whale  boats,  speedily  crossed  Narragan- 
set  Bay  from  Massachusetts,  despite  the  presence  of  several 
British  frigates  and  guard-boats  patroling  the  smooth  waters. 
Landing  without  detection,  Colonel  Barton  and  his  men  seized 
and  gagged  the  sentinels  at  the  foot  of  the  British  general's 
garden,  and  speedily  gained  his  quarters.  The  tyrant,  undressed 
and  in  bed,  supposing  the  intruders  to  be  robbers,  sprang  out 
and  grabbed  his  gold  watch  hanging  on  the  wall,  instead  of  a 
sword  with  which  to  defend  himself,  when  the  American  leader 
coolly  told  him  he  was  a  prisoner.  The  general  begged  per- 
mission to  put  on  his  uniform,  but  the  Yankee  soldiers,  having 
no  time  to  waste  and  the  weather  being  warm,  bade  him  throw 
a  cloak  around  him,  saying  he  could  make  his  toilet  after  reach- 
ing the  American  lines  across  the  bay.  The  boldness  of  the 
act  and  its  successful  issue  proved  the  theme  of  conversation  in 
the  camps  of  both  armies  for  a  long  time  afterwards.  Prescott 
was  kindly  treated  while  in  confinement,  and  on  being  exchanged 
in  the  following  spring,  had  a  better  opinion  of  the  character  and 
ability  of  American  soldiers.  I  regret  to  say  that  Prescott  was 
delivered  in  exchange  for  Major-General  Charles  Lee,  of  the 
American  Army,  a  traitor  to  Washington,  who  had  allowed  him- 
self to  be  captured  in  1776  in  this  State,  where  he  was  loitering 
instead  of  going  to  the  assistance  of  Washington,  who  had  repeat- 
edly sent  him  orders  to  hasten  his  march.  Had  Lee  been  held 
by  the  British  until  the  end  of  the  war,  which  no  true  American 
would  have  ever  regretted,  Washington  would  have  won  a  more 
brilliant  victory  at  Monmouth,  and  Lee  might  have  saved  his 
reputation  as  an  Englishman  who  had  been  honored  more  than 
he  deserved  by  the  American  Congress. 

When  Washington  ascertained  that  Benedict  Arnold  was 
located  in  New  York  City  he  asked  Major  Harry  Lee  ("Light 
Horse  Harry"),  who  had  one  hundred  and  fifty  New  Jersey 
farmer  boys  in  his  command,  to  send  him  a  man  who  was  com- 
petent and  willing  to  go  to  New  York  and  attempt  his  capture. 
Major  Lee  quickly  made  the  selection — that  of  John  Champe,  a 
Virginia  boy,  who  had  been  with  him  since  his  Legion  was 
formed.  Champe,  regarded  as  one  of  the  best  soldiers  in  the 
army,  was  sergeant-major  of  the  command,  and  a  thorough  drill- 
master  and  tactician.  He  did  not  altogether  like  the  proposi- 
tion made  to  him  bv  his  commander,  because  it  necessitated 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  123 

"desertion,"  a  crime  exceedingly   repulsive  to  his  patriotic  in- 
stincts. 

Space  here  will  not  permit  me  to  narrate  the  many  intensely 
interesting  incidents  connected  with  Champe's  departure  from 
the  quiet  camp  at  midnight,  nor  of  his  lonely  ride  from  Tappan, 
nor  tell  of  the  pursuit  by  his  comrade  horsemen,  who  nearly  cap- 
tured him  at  what  is  now  Communipaw,  as  he  sprang  from  his 
wearied  horse,  and  waded  through  the  salt  marsh  to  the  water, 
where,  fortunately  for  his  undertaking,  he  was  picked  up  by 
British  galleys  patroling  along  the  shore. 

Sir  Henry  Clinton,  before  whom  he  was  promptly  taken,  in- 
terrogated Champe  at  length,  and  becoming  satisfied  that  it  was  a 
sign  of  the  disintegration  of  the  patriot  army,  advised  him  to  cali 
upon  Arnold,  now  a  general  in  the  King's  Army  and  engaged  in 
the  task  of  raising  a  command  composed  of  loyalists  and 
deserters. 

After  much  persuasion  on  the  part  of  Arnold,  who  was  fami- 
liar with  Champe's  services,  the  latter  acceded  to  the  traitor's 
request  and  became  a  member  of  the  Legion. 

After  a  few  days  Champe  succeeded  in  delivering  two  let- 
ters from  Washington  to  correspondents  in  the  city,  who  at  once 
agreed  to  aid  him  in  the  abduction  of  Arnold.  The  very  day 
Champe  was  to  carry  his  plan  into  execution  Arnold  took  pos- 
session of  other  quarters  to  oversee  the  embarkation  of  troops 
on  an  expedition,  and  that  night,  instead  of  rowing  Arnold  across 
the  Hudson  River  as  a  prisoner,  Champe  found  himself  on  board 
a  British  transport  bound  South.  Landing  in  Virginia,  he  made 
repeated  attempts  to  escape  but  did  not  succeed  until  Arnold 
formed  a  junction  with  Cornwallis  at  Petersburg,  where  he  got 
away,  and  tramping  westwardly,  reached  the  Blue  Ridge  Moun- 
tains, where  he  remained  until  he  learned  of  the  approach  of  Lee's 
horsemen  (his  old  command),  which  he  immediately  joined  in 
South  Carolina.  His  former  comrades,  surprised  to  again  see 
him,  gave  him  a  hearty  welcome  when  they  learned  the  true  story 
of  his  "desertion." 

Years  afterwards,  when  President  Adams  appointed  Wash- 
ington to  the  chief  command  of  the  army,  the  latter  sent  to 
Colonel  Lee  for  intelligence  of  Champe,  having  decided  to  appoint 
him  a  captain  in  the  army,  but  the  gallant  soldier  had  long  since, 
after  removing  to  the  wilds  of  Kentucky,  slept  the  sleep  that 
knows  no  waking 

During  the  Civil  War  there  were  several  instances  of  like 
character,  perhaps  the  most  exciting  being  the  capture  of  General 


124  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

Stoughton  by  Mosby  and  his  rangers,  and  the  attempt  of  the 
same  command  to  carry  off  Sir  Percy  Wyndham,  colonel  of  the 
famous  First  New  Jersey  Cavalry.  In  the  case  of  Stoughton. 
who  was  in  bed  in  camp  in  the  midst  of  his  command,  Mosby 
with  a  few  men,  passing  themselves  off  as  the  Fifth  New  York 
Cavalry,  entered  the  house  where  the  general  was  soundly 
sleeping.  Awakened  by  a  noise,  and  hearing  Mosby's  name 
mentioned,  he  asked:  "Have  you  got  him?" 

"He's  got  you,"  replied  the  imperturbable  Mosby,  and  Stough- 
ton, finding  resistance  useless,  quietly  accompanied  the  ranger 
away. 


Historical  Sketches  of  the  Revolutionary 
and  Civil  Wars. 


PART  II.— THE  CIVIL  WAR. 


THE  GREAT  UPRISING  IN  '61. 

NEARLY  half  a  century  has  passed  since  the  shot  at  the 
starry  banner  on  Sumter,  heard  'round  the  world, 
called  to  the  field  of  bitter  strife  the  young  men  who 
saved  our  government  from  destruction  and  our  beautiful 
land  from  chaos. 

Those  who  were  permitted  to  take  an  active  part  in  the 
greatest  conflict  recorded  in  history,  were  bright-faced  and  in 
the  hey-day  of  youth,  when,  in  response  to  the  call  of  the 
country,  they  left  happy  homes  to  battle  for  the  preservation  of 
the  best  form  of  government  ever  vouchsafed  to  man. 

The  pen  must  ever  glow  when  picturing  the  scenes  in  the 
early  part  of  1861.  From  the  cleft  and  burdened  head  of  Jove 
sprang  forth  Pallas,  a  perfect  warrior.  But  from  the  burdened 
Union,  rent  in  twain,  leaped  forth,  from  every  country  lane,  street 
and  avenue,  not  one,  but  thousands  of  our  best  and  bravest 
citizens,  whose  hurrying  tread  soon  shook  the  earth,  while 
the  air  that  had  echoed  only  to  the  songs  of  birds,  or  the  sounds 
of  commerce,  resounded  with  the  strains  of  martial  music  and 
patriotic  chorus,  and  new  banners  waved  like  leaves  on  the 
trees  of  our  forests,  and  gleaming  bayonets  flashed  from'  the  rising 
of  the  sun  to  the  going  down  thereof.  The  volunteers  who 
thus  nobly  responded  came  from  college,  office,  work-shop,  farm, 
mill  and  factory,  as  well  as  from  the  mines  whose  ores  were 
being  delved  to  forge  instruments  of  war,  determined  to  lend 
their  best  efforts  in  resisting  the  reckless  men  who  were 
striving  to  subvert  the  Nation's  liberties. 

Those  who  actively  participated  in  that  great  strife,  too  well 
remember  the  dark  hours  of  that  terrible  and  seemingly  never- 


126  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

ending  struggle  for  the  perpetuity  of  the  American  Union.  How 
awful  was  the  anxiety  and  anguish  of  that  trying  period !  The 
seasons  rolled  on,  year  after  year,  in  their  varying  and  beauteous 
course.  But  the  beauty  of  the  spring-time  was  lost  in  the  re- 
flection that  many  of  our  best  and  bravest  comrades  were  melt- 
ing away  even  as  the  snows  of  winter.  The  charm  of  summer 
faded  with  the  thought  that  loved  ones  were  dropping  under 
the  heat  of  battle.  The  loveliness  of  autumn  cheered  our  weary 
hearts  only  for  a  moment,  while  winter  came  to  disturb  blissful 
sleep,  bringing  hunger,  cold,  prison,  wounds  and  death. 

The  sun,  since  Time  began,  has  looked  upon  no  nobler  deeds 
than  those  we  witnessed  between  1861  and  1865,  and  good  old 
Mother  Earth  has  bred  no  nobler  men  than  those  who  fell  beside 
us  in  the  cause  of  Liberty.  They  died  gloriously,  leaving  their 
heroic  deeds,  their  principles,  and  their  worthy  example  as  a 
heritage  to  their  country  and  to  posterity.  By  that  curious 
moral  consanguinity  which  binds  together  men  who  have  stood 
shoulder  to  shoulder  under  fire,  we  are  their  next  of  kin,  and  so 
become  trustees  of  this  rich  heritage. 

We  live  in  times  abounding  with  evil  portents.  The 
public  virtue  shows  conspicuous  evidence  of  decay ;  the  dykes 
which  protect  society  and  the  State  against  the  turbid  tide? 
of  corruption  and  extravagance  seem  to  be  giving  way;  our 
public  and  private  life  is  disclosing  spectacles  of  rottenness 
at  which  we  may  well  stand  aghast.  But  if  we  are  drifting 
from  the  moorings  of  virtue  and  duty  toward  perilous  mael- 
stroms, let  us  remember  that  it  is  because  the  ship  itself  is  unsea- 
worthy. 

The  life  of  this  nation — the  quality  of  our  law  and  our  gov- 
ernment, are  just  what  the  people  make  them — nothing  more — 
nothing  less.  They  are  the  source  of  all  power;  with  them 
rests  absolutely  the  determination  of  the  national  character  and 
influence.  If  the  people  lose  faith  in  themselves,  or  in  the 
principles  of  liberty,  justice,  integrity  and  fair  play ;  if  they  neg- 
lect the  performance  of  individual  obligations  and  duties ;  if  they 
permit  the  spring  to  be  poisoned,  either  through  neglect  or  indif- 
ference, they  cannot  complain  if  the  perverted  and  deadly  tor- 
rent sweeps  them  headlong  into  ruin.  You  cannot  stay  the 
Mississippi  where  it  sweeps  with  majestic  flow  to  its  massage 
with  the  gulf,  but  far  away  among  the  firm  hills,  where  it  has 
its  source,  you  can  gather  all  its  waters  into  your  palms  and 
divert  them  as  you  will. 

If,  then,  we  would  restore  the  tone  of  the  public  morals : 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  127" 

if  we  would  make  our  public  and  private  life  pure,  upright  and 
potent  in  all  wholesome  influences;  if  we  would  make  our  flag 
honorable,  because  it  represents  a  people  strong  in  all  the  ele- 
ments that  help  constitute  a  perfect  manhood — we  must  carry 
with  us  everywhere  as  individuals  that  reverence  for  principle 
and  for  essential  ideas  of  polity,  that  allegiance  to  the  right  in 
all  its  forms  which  animated  and  controlled  us  when  danger 
pressed,  and  our  nation,  stripped  bare  to  the  eye  of  God,  lay 
smitten  in  the  dust,  supplicating  that  favor  which  alone  is  per- 
fect life. 

If  we  continue  to  maintain  freedom  for  every  citizen  of  this 
great  Republic,  and  transmit  the  institutions  we  fought  for,  and 
my  brave  comrades  died  to  save,  in  all  their  vigor  and  purity,  to 
those  who  come  after  us,  we  shall  have  done  all  that  is  required, 
and  so  proven  true  to  the  trust  which  we  accepted  by  their  death, 
Then,  when  the  coming  years  have  passed  us  by,  so  swiftly 
and  silently  that  they  have  had  to  scatter  snow  upon  heads  that 
are  now  whitened,  and  plow  our  faces  with  yet  deeper  furrows 
to  let  us  know  that  they  were  once  with  us  in  peril,  it  may  be 
permitted  us  to  see  through  the  twilight  what  others  may  not 
see,  the  mighty  spirits  of  dead  comrades  rising  above  their 
ashes,  where  they  fell,  standing,  like  tall,  heroic  sentinels,  to 
guard  our  land  from  ill. 

Let  us  hope  that  we  shall  have  no  more  to  do  with  war ;  but 
by  the  hour  of  our  grief,  by  the  memory  of  our  dead,  by  the 
never-ending  sorrow  of  the  living,  for  the  honor  of  our  country 
and  our  dear  flag,  and  for  the  sake  of  American  manhood,  let 
us  strive  to  keep  this  land  the  heritage  of  those  who  love  Lib- 
erty and  free  institutions. 

Let  me  add  that  all  remaining  energies,  all  our  talents, 
should  be  used  to  perpetuate  this,  the  happiest  model  of  a  gov- 
ernment which  enlightened  man,  in  the  fullest  fruition  of  his 
most  cultivated  powers  ever  erected  to  the  genius  of  civiliza- 
tion. Let  us  continue  it — the  blessed  asylum  to  which  the 
victims  of  oppression,  as  they  look  up  from  beneath  the  grind- 
ing despotism  of  the  old  world,  may  turn  their  eyes  with  a  new 
hope,  as  the  one  bright  clime  where  Freedom  rears  her  crest 
in  full  and  free  defiance,  while  each  clustering  star  shall  remain 
in  full,  clear  and  cloudless  majesty,  brilliant  and  beautiful  as 
when  first  they  beamed  their  morning  splendor  to  illuminate 
the  world  with  a  day-dream  from  on  high. 


128  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


FAST  AND  LOOSE  IN  DIXIE;  OR  GENERAL  DRAKE'S 
LEAP  FOR  LIBERTY. 

"Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage." 

N  that  April  morn  in  1861,  when  the  dread 
tocsin  sounded  in  response  to  the  first 
proclamation  of  President  Lincoln,  calling 
for  75,000  volunteers,  with  3,000  patriotic 
New  Jerseymen,  in  the  flush  of  young 
manhood,  I  raised  the  first  company  in  my 
native  state,  and  hastened  to  the  defense 
of  the  Nation's  Capital,  then  in  supreme 
danger,  and  for  four  long  years,  without 
losing  a  day's  duty,  or  missing  a  march 
or  battle,  served  my  country  in  a  cheerful 
manner  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 
I  will  not  tax  the  reader's  patience  by  attempting  to  describe 
the  numerous  battles  in  which  my  regiment,  the  Ninth  New 
Jersey,  engaged,  nor  the  long  and  fatiguing  marches  we  made 
during  that  long  period  of  time,  but  give  a  chapter  or  two  from 
my  experiences  in  various  prison-pens,  and  a  brief  account  of  a 
tramp  I  made,  accompanied  by  three  companions,  through  three 
states  of  the  Southern  Confederacy,  from  near  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  to  the  Union  lines  at  Knoxville,  Tennessee,  a  distance 
of  nearly  1,000  miles,  requiring  seven  weeks  in  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  self-imposed  task. 

Captured  with  most  of  a  company  I  had  commanded  for  more 
than  a  year,  in  the  terrible  conflict  at  Drewry's  Bluff,  which  I 
was  first  to  assail,  at  an  early  hour  on  the  morning  of  May  16, 
1864,  by  a  brigade  of  Alabamians,  led  by  General  Archie  Grade, 
whom  I  had  known  in  my  boyhood,  I  was,  with  the  portion  of 
my  command,  which  had  been  unable  to  escape,  promptly  es- 
corted over  the  gory  field,  to  the  wharf  under  the  frowning  bat- 
tlements of  impregnable  Fort  Darling,  which  grimly  overlooked 
the  majestic  James  River,  at  a  height  of  nearly  two  hundred  feet. 
Two  hours  afterwards  myself  and  sorrowing  companions 
disembarked  from  a  gunboat  at  Rockett's  Wharf  in  Richmond, 
where  a  mob  had  gathered  to  witness  our  arrival.  The  tumultu- 
ous crowd  of  stay-at-homes,  who  had  been  in  fear  all  the  week, 
had  evidently  gained  courage  on  hearing  no  further  sounds  of 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  129 

the  battle  which  had  been  in  progress  since  daybreak  seven  miles 
below  the  Confederate  Capital,  as  we  were  greeted  with  hoots, 
jeers  and  cat-calls. 

A  short  walk  brought  us  to  a  large  brick  building,  in  rear 
of  which  tranquilly  flowed  the  James  River  and  the  ever  placid 
Kanawha  Canal.  Over  a  low  door  in  the  northeastern  corner 
of  this  carefully  guarded  structure  I  read  the  ominous  sign: 
''Libby  &  Son,  Ship  Chandlers  and  Grocers,"  and  my  heart  be- 
came sorely  disquieted,  as  I  knew  that  thousands  of  noble  and 
patriotic  Union  soldiers  who  had  entered  the  yawning  portal 
had  left  hope  behind  when  the  iron-clad  door  swung  to  with  an 
alarming  clang  at  their  heels. 

I  will  not  dwell  on  the  wretched  condition  of  our  prisoners 
during  their  captivity.  Their  sad  fate  is  the  theme  of  story  and 
of  song,  and  none  but  the  callous-hearted  refuse  to  drop  a  tear 
to  their  memory. 

After  registering  in  this  uninviting  hostelry,  "Dick"  Tur- 
ner, the  heartless  keeper,  unlike  any  hotel  clerk  I  had  ever  before 
met,  relieved  us  of  whatever  valuables  we  had  not  been  stripped 
of  on  the  battle-field,  greenbacks  and  jewelry  being  especially 
preferred.  Turner,  however,  sought  to  relieve  our  minds  by 
giving  assurance  that  the  articles  thus  taken  would  be  returned 
on  our  departure.  But  our  keeper  had  a  bad  memory,  and  we 
lost  our  deposits. 

Besides  retaining  our  treasure,  Turner  showed  utter  unfit- 
ness  to  entertain  gentlemen,  and  one  of  his  characteristics  was 
to  serve  a  very  poor  bill  of  fare.  It  was  the  same  menu  day  after 
day,  when  he  didn't  forget  his  guests  entirely,  which  he  fre- 
quently did.  I  might  add  that  none  of  Turner's  boarders  were 
afflicted  with  gout. 

At  an  early  hour  one  morning  in  June,  when  the  sweet 
music  of  General  Grant's  guns  was  thundering  through  the  Wil- 
derness, and  we  were  confidently  expecting  to  see  our  cavalry 
dashing  up  and  surrounding  our  prison-house,  we  were  rudely 
awakened  by  Turner  and  his  unceremonious  guards,  hustled 
into  the  street,  and  hurried  across  the  Mayo  Bridge  to  Man- 
chester, where  we  embarked  on  a  train  of  filthy  cattle  cars. 

One  thousand  of  our  enlisted  men,  mere  wrecks  of  them- 
selves, scarcely  able  to  stand,  much  less  walk,  joined  us  here. 
They  came  from  Belle  Isle,  a  low-lying  sand  bar  in  the  middle 
of  the  James  River,  where  they  had  nearly  perished  from  cold 
and  hunger.  Then  we  started  on  a  long  and  fatiguing  ride 
towards  the  Gulf — the  officers  for  Macon,  Georgia,  the  enlisted 


130  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

men  for  Andersonville.     Five-sixths  of  the  latter  never  left  that 
hell-spot. 

Soon  after  my  incarceration  at  Macon,  plans  to  escape  were 
formed,  the  consideration  of  which  relieved  us  from  ennui,  if 
nothing  further  was  gained.  At  Macon  and  Savannah  tunnel- 
ing projects  requiring  indomitable  resolution  and  painful  labor 
were  cheerfully  entered  upon,  and  tireless  efforts  put  forth  to 
achieve  success.  Our  labors  proved  futile.  Mountains  of  diffi- 
culty were  overcome  by  men  whose  souls  aspired  to  breathe  the 
air  of  freedom ;  but  treachery  generally  accomplished  the  ruin 
of  promising  projects,  and  adverse  fate  paralyzed  the  strong 
arms  which  were  ever  ready  to  execute  noble  purposes.  If  our 
keepers  failed  in  their  vigilance  to  detect  our  enterprising  exca- 
vations, some  detestible  comrade  (?)  with  a  greed  for  Confeder- 
ate favors  would  convey  to  them  information  of  our  operations 
More  than  once  during  that  long  and  never-to-be-forgotten 
summer  did  I  work  through  seemingly  interminable  night  in 
digging  tunnels,  and  skulk  to  the  space  alloted  me  in  the  pen 
just  as  daybreak  came  peeping  in,  with  my  hands  bleeding  and 
my  strength  exhausted,  only  to  find  in  the  end  that  some  con- 
temptible poltroon  had  treacherously  betrayed  our  plans. 

At  Macon  eighteen  hundred  commissioned  officers  cele- 
brated the  Fourth  of  July  as  they  had  never  done  before.  While 
the  Confederate  guards  were  engaged  in  the  usual  morning  count 
to  ascertain  whether  all  were  present  my  gallant  comrade,  Cap- 
tain Harry  H.  Todd,  of  the  Eighth  New  Jersey,  took  from  his 
pocket-book  a  miniature  silk  American  flag  given  him  by  a 
young  lady  of  Jersey  City,  and  holding  it  above  his  head,  waved 
it  at  the  Confederates.  The  excitement  following  beggars  des- 
cription. The  Confederate  officers  made  attempts  to  capture  the 
tiny  flag,  but  they  could  not  force  themselves  to  where  the  Cap- 
tain stood.  Then  army  songs  were  sung  as  never  before,  and 
speeches  followed.  All  in  all,  it  was  the  most  exciting  Fourth  I 
ever  experienced. 

When  the  yellow-fever  reached  its  worst  stage  in  Septerv 
ber,  we  were  transported  from  Savannah  to  Charleston — myself 
and  others  being  thrown  into  the  jail-yard. 

In  the  jail-yard  I  was  afforded  delectable  accommodations 
at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  with  a  spot  of  earth  three  feet  by  six. 
and  here  I  was  compelled  to  remain  during  the  long  and  dreary 
days  and  nights,  with  no  covering  save  the  star-spangled  firma- 
ment. The  black  hole  of  Calcutta,  or  the  sugar-house  in  New 
York  during  the  occupancy  of  that  city  by  the  British  in  the 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  131 

War  of  the  Revolution,  could  not  have  been  more  uninviting 
places  than  the  jail-yard  at  the  time  I  occupied  an  infinitesimal 
space  within  its  high  and  gloomy  brick  walls.  The  almost  con- 
stantly bursting  shells  from  the  "Swamp  Angel,"  which  sent  its 
screaming  compliments  to  us,  had  some  terrors,  but  they  sunk 
into  insignificance  when  the  dangers  from  "Yellow-Jack"  were 
considered.  The  Charleston  jail-yard  was  a  noisome  spot — a 
fetid  place — a  circumscribed  world. 

My  thoughts  weighed  heavily  upon  me  during  my  cap- 
tivity, but  never  so  painfully  as  at  Charleston,  where  I  had  no 
diversion,  even  tunneling  being  out  of  the  question.  I  had  no 
correspondence  with  my  family  or  friends,  and  was  profoundly 
ignorant  of  events  transpiring  in  the  outer  world.  A  newspaper 
or  a  book  would  have  been  a  friend  to  consult,  or  an  adversary 
to  combat;  but  I  was  shut  out  from  all  that  was  light  and  joy 
and  brightness,  and  forced  to  live  with  my  bitterest  enemy — 
Thought.  And  how  oppressive  was  that  feeling  which  continu- 
ally spoke  to  me  of  my  desperate  and  forlorn  condition. 

Early  in  October  rumors  prevailed  that  we  were  to  be 
removed  to  another  point,  and  believing  an  opportunity  for 
-escape  would  present  itself  I  invited  three  friends — Captain 
Harry  H.  Todd,  8th  New  Jersey;  Captain  Alfred  Grant,  19th 
Wisconsin,  and  Captain  J.  E.  Lewis,  llth  Connecticut — to  join 
me  in  an  attempt  to  regain  the  freedom  we  ardently  coveted, 
and  for  which  we  had  repeatedly  toiled.  Providentially,  we 
found  a  portion  of  an  old  map  of  South  Carolina,  and  after  care- 
fully studying  it,  quickly  decided  upon  a  plan  of  action. 

Next  morning,  October  sixth,  six  hundred  of  our  number 
were  marshalled  and  marched  to  the  railroad  station,  where  we 
took  passage  on  dilapidated  cars  attached  to  a  rickety,  wheez- 
ing, wood-burning  locomotive.  As  our  long  train  passed  slowly 
along  the  outskirts  of  the  pestilential  city,  we  saw  a  camp  on 
the  old  race-course,  filled  with  the  most  wretched  looking  beings 
it  ever  fell  to  my  lot  to  look  upon.  They  were  Union  soldiers, 
prisoners  of  war. 

The  condition  of  these  once  bright-faced  and  stalwart  young 
men  was  pitiable  in  the  extreme.  Although  we  were  greatly 
distressed,  many  of  us  in  rags,  covered  with  filth  and  active  and 
«ver-present  vermin,  and  half  starved,  others  unable  to  stand  or 
walk  on  account  of  scurvy,  yet  our  hearts  went  out  to  those 
brave  men,  thus  huddled  together,  in  the  open  air,  with  nothing 
save  the  ground  for  a  bed  and  the  blue-vaulted  canopy  for  a 
covering. 


132 


HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


Myself  and  three  companions  having  matured  plans  for 
flight,  all  that  remained  was  to  put  them  into  execution.  Dur- 
ing the  day  I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  remove  the  percussion 
caps  from  the  muskets  of  the  seven  armed  Confederate  guards 
who  bore  us  company  in  the  box-car.  I  did  this  to  prevent  the 
guards  from  firing  in  the  excitement  attending  our  leap  from 
the  train. 

The  shades  of  night 
were  enveloping  the  earth 
as  our  train  reached  the 
long  wooden  structure 
spanning  the  Congaree 
River,  a  short  distance 
above  its  confluence  with 
the  swift-flowing  Watteree 
and  it  seemed  as  if  it  would 
never  reach  the  opposite 
bank — so  great  was  our 
anxiety  to  make  a  bold 
stroke  for  Freedom  and 
"God's  country,"  a  term  by 
which  all  prisoners  desig- 
nated the  North.  It  would 
be  useless  to  affirm  that  my  mind  at  this  critical  moment  was 
calm  and  serene,  or  that  I  had  no  misgivings  as  to  what  the 
result  of  our  frightful  leap  might  be.  But  the  intense  excite- 
ment into  which  our  minds  had  been  thrown — the  resolve  to 
seek  home  and  friends  and  liberty  overcame  the  sense  of  peril, 
and  the  instant  Captain  Todd  gave  the  signal  we  each  sprang 
from  the  swiftly-moving  car,  and,  for  the  time  at  least,  were 
free. 

We  had  no  leisure  after  reaching  terra  firma  to  reflect  upon 
the  terrors  of  our  new  situation.  Fortune  so  far  had  favored  us 
— this  was  sufficient.  But  those  rifle  flashes  (we  could  not  hear 
the  reports,  so  distant  was  the  train)  warned  us  that  if  we  would 
have  perfect  freedom  much  remained  to  be  done  and  done 
quickly. 

It  was  while  contemplating  the  necessity  of  entering  a  dark 
and  forbidding-looking  cypress  swamp  to  escape  our  enemies 
that  we  heard  the  rush  and  roar  of  an  approaching  storm.  The 
trees  set  up  a  mournful  howling,  while  the  winds  shrieked  as  if 
under  the  influence  of  a  demon.  They  were  merely  the  pre- 
cursors of  the  fearful  night  through  which  we  were  compelled 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  133 

to  pass.  As  we  dashed  into  the  swamp,  veiled  with  Cimmerian 
darkness,  we  encountered  danger  from  falling  branches  and 
uprooted  trees.  While  the  tornado  was  a  huge  terror,  it  was 
nothing  compared  to  the  dread  we  had  for  the  fierce  dogs  now 
on  our  trail,  and  those  whose  excited  voices  we  could  hear  on 
the  edge  of  the  swamp — men  who  were  seeking  our  recapture. 

It  was  only  after  gaining  the  covert  of  the  swamp  which 
lined  the  right  bank  of  the  Watteree  River  that  I  reflected  upon 
the  manifold  dangers  I  had  just  escaped,  upon  the  many  chances 
of  fortune  which  had  turned  out  favorably  for  me,  and  upon  the 
liberty  I  had  panted  for  and  was  beginning  to  enjoy. 

The  swamp  we  had  hastily  entered  was  not  such  a  resort 
as  gentlemen  of  leisure  on  a  pleasure  excursion  would  have 
selected ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  a  very  disagreeable  refuge,  as 
we  could  find  no  ground  on  which  to  tread — no  place  to  sit  or 
recline  to  rest  our  weary  bodies — the  water  and  mud  being  quite 
deep — to  say  nothing  about  venomous  reptiles  we  encountered 
•on  every  hand. 

But  the  fierce  baying  of  dreaded  blood-hounds  and  the 
hoarse  voices  of  our  excited  human  pursuers,  which  we  heard 
all  through  the  long  night,  admonished  us  to  submit  to  every 
discomfort  rather  than  endanger  our  highly-prized  freedom. 

Convinced  that  the  water  through  which  we  waded  had 
destroyed  the  trail,  and  that  so  long  as  we  remained  in  our 
present  position  the  dogs  would  be  unable  to  reach  our  hiding- 
place,  we  studiously  avoided  all  conversation  during  the  night 
and  following  day,  remaining  perfectly  quiet. 

When  the  long  tiresome  day  had  drawn  to  a  close  a 
bright  new  moon  rose  to  cheer  us  in  our  loneliness,  and  feeling 
our  pursuers  had  departed  from  our  immediate  vicinity,  we  cau- 
tiously made  our  way  to  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  which -we  found 
to  be  bordered  by  a  plantation.  We  held  our  breath  as  we  lis- 
tened for  human  sounds,  and  finding  everything  as  still  as  a  vil- 
lage graveyard,  emerged  from  cover,  and,  skirting  the  river's 
bank,  promptly  pushed  forward  in  our  flight. 

Before  leaving  Charleston  we  had  taken  the  precaution  to 
place  pieces  of  raw  onions  in  our  boots,  having  been  advised  so 
to  do  by  a  Tennessee  captain,  who  assured  us  it  would  effectually 
destroy  the  scent  of  our  footsteps,  and  thus  deprive  the  dogs  of 
the  agencies  which  nature  had  afforded  them  in  hunting  human 
"beings.  The  moon,  of  tender  age,  was  a  great  accommodation 
to  us  in  our  pilgrimage,  enabling  us  to  make  rapid  headway, 
and  to  steer  clear  of  anything  resembling  a  habitation.  But  the 


134  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

silvery  rays  disappeared  before  midnight,  leaving  the  countless 
stars  to  guide  and  cheer  us  on  our  dangerous  journey. 

Towards  daybreak,  being  weary,  we  halted  for  a  needed  rest 
and  shortly  after  resuming  our  tramp  reached  a  broad  highway 
where  we  found  a  mile-stone,  marked  "27  to  C."  Having  no 
desire  to  visit  Columbia,  whither  our  comrades  had  gone  the 
day  before,  we  hastily  struck  off  towards  the  river,  and  had  pro- 
ceeded but  a  short  distance  when  a  pack  of  ferocious  dogs  came 
bounding  after  us.  A  long  run  enabled  us  to  evade  the  savage 
brutes,  but  while  congratulating  ourselves  upon  our  narrow 
escape,  we  suddenly  ran  almost  directly  upon  three  men  standing 
near  a  saw-mill. 

Darting  into  an  adjacent  swamp,  we  managed  to  elude  our 
pursuers,  despite  the  difficulties  we  encountered — chief  of  which 
was  a  swiftly-running  stream  of  water.  This  we  were  enabled 
to  cross  on  a  big  tree  that  time  had  prostrated,  and  into  the 
depths  of  a  dense  jungle  we  plunged.  Serpents  of  various  kinds 
finally  compelled  us  to  seek  safety  on  the  trunk  of  a  huge 
monarch,  whose  usefulness  old  age  and  infirmity  had  destroyed. 
We  remained  on  that  tree  trunk  all  day,  and  had  great  trouble 
in  finding  our  way  out  of  the  swamp  after  the  sun  went  down. 
That  evening  we  had  a  splendid  repast  on  sweet  potatoes,  a  few 
of  which  we  found  in  a  patch  near  by. 

Before  the  lapse  of  a  week,  however,  we  met  with  a  terrible 
misfortune  in  the  loss  of  our  cooking  utensils,  knives,  forks 
spoons,  towel,  several  boxes  of  matches,  etc.  The  rations  with 
which  we  had  provided  ourselves  before  starting  having  been 
eaten,  we  sought  sustenance  in  corn-fields,  swamps  and  woods, 
and  early  one  morning  were  enjoying  a  feast  near  a  sweet  potato 
patch  we  had  visited  when  a  party  of  horsemen  came  galloping 
furiously  towards  us.  We  had  not  anticipated  danger  in  so 
lonely  and  secluded  a  spot,  and  perhaps  were  a  little  careless  in 
our  movements.  But  self-preservation  being  nature's  first  law. 
and  having  no  weapons  of  defense,  we  sprang  intuitively  to  our 
feet  and  darted  in  an  opposite  direction,  leaving  most  of  our 
necessities  behind — articles  that  were  indispensable  to  our  needs. 
We  had  some  consolation  for  their  loss  in  our  continued  safety, 
but  were  greatly  inconvenienced  thereafter  for  the  want  of  a 
knife  and  a  utensil  in  which  to  cook  whatever  we  found  to  cook 

While  dangers  of  greater  or  less  magnitude  constantly  sur- 
rounded us  from  start  to  finish,  they  were  as  nothing  compared 
to  the  question  of  subsistence,  which  soon  began  to  grow  un- 
pleasantly urgent,  and  at  length  became  so  desperate  that  it 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  135 

looked  as  if  we  should  be  driven  to  seek  food  at  the  houses  of 
the  planters,  a  proceeding  we  had  solemnly  sworn  not  to  do 
under  any  circumstances,  as  we  knew  we  should  receive  from 
them  neither  food  nor  mercy. 

For  several  days  we  wandered  along  the  outskirts  of  fields, 
diligently  seeking  corn,  occasionally  finding  a  stray  ear,  which 
spurned  by  a  ravenous  appetite,  we  managed  to  masticate,  the 
process  ruining  our  teeth.  In  camp  and  on  marches  we  had 
many  a  time  anathematized  government  hard-tack,  and  de- 
claimed against  contractors'  beef,  but  now,  crouching  in  dismal 
swamps  through  the  long  days,  we  would  have  relished  the 
substantial  fare,  which,  in  hours  of  plenty,  we  had  so  execrated. 

But  with  all  our  troubles — and  they  were  manifold — we  con- 
tinued to  press  on  through  the  dreary  days  and  tedious  nights, 
oftentimes  hiding,  determined  to  again  reach  home,  however 
great  the  risk. 

Often  and  again,  when  upon  the  verge  of  starvation,  we 
were  strongly  inclined  to  visit  the  cabins  of  negroes,  in  whom 
we  then  had  almost  absolute  faith,  but  despite  this,  as  often  beat 
back  the  tempter  (our  stomachs),  and  refused  to  jeopardize  our 
situation  until  certain  we  could  find  some  one  in  whom  to  repose 
trust,  and  with  it  our  lives. 

We  did  not  make  a  serious  attempt  to  seek  help  from  the 
slaves  until  we  reached  a  point  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from 
Charleston,  where,  one  afternoon,  we  found  a  number  at  work 
in  a  field.  We  experienced  no  difficulty  in  satisfying  the  darkies 
that  we  were  Yankee  officers  escaping  from  bondage,  and  as 
soon  as  darkness  fell  they  hastened  to  our  hiding-place,  and 
either  brought  us  edibles  or  piloted  us  to  their  lowly  cabins 
displaying  the  utmost  delight  at  our  presence.  After  this  experi- 
ment we  did  not  hesitate  in  seeking  them  out. 

There  was  something  almost  royal  in  the  cheerfully-ren- 
dered services  of  these  poor  creatures,  who  seemed  to  look  upon 
us  as  in  some  way  sufferers  for  their  sake,  and  they  fairly  loaded 
us  with  kindnesses — oftentimes  insisting  upon  our  accepting  the 
last  pound  of  their  meal.  They  also  gave  us  information  as  to 
the  whereabouts  of  Confederate  soldiers,  and  the  best  route  to 
the  mountains,  for  which  we  were  aiming.  When  we  parted 
they  invariably  bestowed  heartfelt  blessings. 

One  beautiful  moonlight  night,  when  on  the  verge  of  star- 
vation, being  too  weak  to  continue  our  journey,  we  determined 
to  risk  a  visit  to  some  negro  shanties,  to  obtain,  if  possible,  palat- 
able food,  of  which  we  stood  in  great  need,  having  for  a  day  or 


136 


HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


two  past  subsisted  on  swamp  berries  of  insipid  taste.     While 
sitting  near  a  broad,  smooth  roadway,  debating  as  to  the  best 

and  safest  course  to  pur- 
sue, we  saw  an  object  slow- 
ly approaching.  When  di- 
rectly opposite,  we  rose 
from  our  hiding-place  in 
the  bushes  and  confronted 
the  visitor,  who  proved  to 
be  a  very  aged  negro.  On 
his  left  arm  was  suspended 
a  large  basket,  which,  on 
examination,  we  found 
contained  an  immense 
"pone,"  as  all  Southerners 
denominate  loaves  of 
bread.  The  old  man  was 
naturally  surprised  when 
we  relieved  him  of  that 
bread,  and  tearing  it  in 
pieces,  began  to  devour  it  in  a  ravenous  manner.  When  informed 
that  we  were  Yankee  army  officers  escaping  from  Charleston,  the 
aged  midnight  stroller  indulged  in  saltation  exercises  that  would 
have  been  creditable  to  our  modern  athletes,  giving  vent  to  the 
great  joy  he  felt  by  religious  exclamations,  which  constantly  es- 
caped him.  Before  we  bade  him  farewell  he  supplied  us  with  a 
quantity  of  cornmeal  and  some  salt,  of  which  we  had  long  stood 
in  sad  need,  having  had  no  salsamentarious  food  since  leaving  the 
prison-yard.  Myself  and  companions  regarded  the  appearance 
of  the  white-haired  old  man  as  a  Providential  dispensation. 

We  had  another  remarkable  adventure  at  a  late  hour  one 
night  near  Dallas,  North  Carolina.  Breathless  from  a  long 
chase  by  some  horsemen,  we  sat  down  in  a  dense  woods  to 
regain  strength,  and  while  thus  engaged  heard  a  man  and 
woman  approaching,  both  singing  from  the  depths  of  their  lungs. 
Taking  it  for  granted  they  were  negroes,  we  concluded  to  invite 
their  assistance,  and  when  the  couple  reached  us  we  stopped 
them.  The  female,  with  a  yell  of  terror,  ran  off  like  a  frightened 
deer,  while  the  man,  in  a  voice  that  betrayed  no  nervousness, 
asked  who  we  were  and  what  we  wanted.  His  voice  satisfied  us 
that  he  was  a  white  man,  and  the  click  of  a  pistol  gave  evidence 
of  his  ability  to  defend  himself. 

Necessarily  we  resorted  to  conventional  strategy,  putting 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  137 

and  answering  questions  with  the  utmost  wariness,  all  the  time 
wishing  we  had  let  him  alone.  It  required  but  a  brief  time,  how- 
ever, to  discover  the  status  of  the  stranger,  and  probably  he  had 
never  been  embraced  before  with  the  vehement  warmth  we  dis- 
played when  we  learned  that  he  was  a  Loyalist,  a  firm  friend  of 
the  American  Union.  He  insisted  upon  our  visiting  his  home, 
two  miles  away,  which  we  did  by  following  a  path  in  the  woods, 
thus  avoiding  mounted  patrols  which  continually  scoured  the 
country. 

His  amiable  wife,  who  had  awaited  his  return,  speedily  pre- 
pared an  excellent  supper — the  first  square  meal  we  had  had  in 
six  months — to  which  you  may  well  imagine  we  each  did  the 
fullest  justice,  the  smiles  and  kindly  words  of  our  hostess  season- 
ing the  rich  repast.  That  night,  sitting  before  a  cheerful  blaze 
of  that  noble  North  Carolinian's  great  hearth,  he  told  us  the 
story  of  the  loyalty  of  the  people  in  the  western  section  of  the 
state,  proving  to  us  that  Freedom  still  had  brave  defenders 
among  the  hardy  foresters  of  the  "Old  North  State." 

When  the  rising  sun,  dazzling  and  radiant,  shot  suddenly 
golden  beams  of  light,  we  were  several  miles  beyond  Dallas — 
our  brave  and  genial  host,  C.  C.  Withers,  an  ex-member  of  the 
legislature,  having  accompanied  us  some  distance,  and  after 
directing  us  to  other  Unionists,  he  disappeared  in  the  deep  sha- 
dows of  the  woods  which  surrounded  us. 

We  resumed  our  pilgrimage  with  lighter  hearts  and  nimbler 
feet,  notwithstanding  our  boots  were  fast  giving  out,  owing  to 
the  hard  usage  to  which  they  had  been  subjected.  Long  before 
we  reached  the  roaring  Catawba  River,  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tains, I  was  compelled  to  walk  bare-footed,  and  much  as  I  then 
suffered,  it  was  no  comparison  to  what  I  underwent  after  reach- 
ing the  over-towering  and  cloud-reaching  hills. 

At  sunrise  one  lovely  morning,  while  making  our  way 
through  a  pine  woods,  endeavoring  to  give  a  wide  berth  to  the 
town  of  Morganton,  a  rendezvous  for  Confederate  conscripts, 
we  were  almost  paralyzed  to  discover,  but  a  few  yards  away,  and 
directly  in  our  course,  a  noble-looking  Confederate  officer  in  full 
uniform,  mounted  upon  a  fine  horse.  In  his  saddle-holsters  were 
heavy  revolvers,  and  at  his  side,  a  glittering  sabre.  A  retrograde 
movement  on  our  part  would  have  been  useless,  and  we  instinc- 
tively halted  as  the  handsome  cavalier  confronted  us.  Pity  was 
depicted  in  his  every  look.  He  asked  no  questions,  but  directed 
us  to  the  best  point  for  crossing  the  river,  and  after  handing  us 
a  large-sized  plug  of  tobacco,  he  sank  spurs  into  the  magnificent 


138  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

animal  he  gracefully  bestrode,  and  in  a  moment  had  disappeared 
from  our  view.  That  officer  evidently  recognized  us  as  escap- 
ing Union  prisoners,  and  hadn't  the  heart  to  bar  our  way  to  lib- 
erty. 

We  hastened  on,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  stood  upon  a  high 
bluff  overlooking  the  rushing  waters  of  the  mighty  river,  which, 
with  the  means  at  hand,  required  two  days'  time  to  cross. 

Discovering  apple  trees  in  a  field  far  below,  we  descended 
and  picked  what  fruit  we  could  find,  and  while  thus  engaged,  saw 
several  men  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  hastening  to  the 
bank,  where  we  had  observed  a  small  boat  moored.  We  hurriedly 
left  that  vicinity,  but  with  the  aid  of  dogs  our  presence  was  dis- 
covered at  midnight,  and  we  again  took  to  our  heels  and  ran  till 
daybreak. 

The  country  about  there  seems  to  have  been  fully  aroused,  as 
early  that  morning  and  throughout  the  day  we  saw  parties  of 
armed  men  and  dogs  in  various  directions,  acting  in  an  excited 
manner.  Towards  the  close  of  the  day,  however,  we  managed 
to  again  reach  the  river  unobserved,  by  crawling  through  high 
dry  weeds  extending  from  the  woods  to  the  water,  and  were 
made  inexpressibly  happy  soon  after  by  discovering  a  large  flat- 
boat,  fastened  to  a  tree,  lying  a  few  yards  up  stream.  It  required 
much  skill  to  guide  and  propel  the  unwieldy  craft  across  the  swift- 
running  current,  but  we  successfully  accomplished  the  task,  and 
shortly  after  had  the  satisfaction  of  witnessing  its  destruction 
among  the  rocks  a  few  hundred  yards  below.  The  Catawba  was 
the  most  serious  obstacle  in  the  water  line  we  had  to  contend  with. 
and  we  were  devoutly  thankful  in  being  so  successful  in  accom- 
plishing its  passage. 

We  had  scarcely  turned  our  backs  upon  the  river  ere  the  sky 
became  overcast  with  dense  black  clouds,  and  early  in  the  even- 
ing a  heavy  rain-storm  came  up  adding  greatly  to  our  discom- 
forts. Seeing  a  light  in  a  small  cabin  in  the  wilderness  we 
sought  refuge  from  the  elements.  The  occupant  of  the  hut,  a 
white  woman,  surrounded  by  half-a-dozen  small  children,  said 
she  had  no  accommodations,  nor  any  food.  The  poor,  friend- 
less creature,  however,  had  one  solace — the  snuff  she  continually 
rubbed  on  her  teeth  with  a  well-worn  stick. 

As  we  left  the  desolate  habitation  the  storm  increased  in  vio- 
lence; the  thunder  broke  along  the  luminous  sky,  and  the  light- 
ning seemed  to  rent  it  in  twain.  It  was  mighty  and  beautiful; 
a  strange,  rushing  wind  came  with  it,  bending  the  trees  as  though 
they  were  saplings.  We  were  mute  and  frightened  before  the- 
terrific  grandeur  of  the  warring  elements. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  139 

In  our  slow  and  painful  progress  we  stumbled  over  fallen 
trees,  ran  against  obstructions,  and  pitched  into  water-filled 
excavations.  The  woods  being  illumined  by  flashes  of  light- 
ning, we  at  length  discovered  a  number  of  small  log  houses.  It 
seemed  like  a  village  of  the  dead,  so  solemn  was  the  silence  which 
pervaded  the  place.  A  reconnoissance  satisfied  us  that  it  was 
an  old  camp-meeting  ground,  and  we  immediately  entered  a 
cabin,  built  a  fire  and  held  service  by  drying  our  apparel.  Shortly 
afterwards  an  old  sow  and  a  litter  of  pigs  ran  by,  and  half  an 
hour  after  three  of  the  piggies  were  broiling  over  a  blaze  in  the 
chimney.  Although  we  had  no  knife  to  sever  the  parts  or  salt 
to  season  the  meat,  we  enjoyed  a  hearty  meal,  climbed  into  the 
bunks  and  slept  serenely  till  late  next  morning. 

We  now  entered  upon  that  vast  elevated  region  which  forms 
the  Southern  division  of  the  Appalachian  mountain  system,  con- 
stituting the  culminating  point  in  the  Atlantic  barrier  of  the 
American  continent.  We  were  at  the  gate  of  the  land  through 
which  runs  the  chain  of  the  Roan,  Bald,  Mitchell  and  Great 
Smoky  Mountains,  separating  Western  North  Carolina  from 
Eastern  Tennessee.  But  we  little  dreamed  of  the  dangers  we 
should  still  meet  with,  or  of  the  great  distance  to  be  traversed, 
or  of  the  increased  hunger  and  terrible  privations  we  should  yet 
suffer. 

Our  route  lay  through  the  mountain  forest,  and,  conse- 
quently, we  caught,  from  time  to  time,  exquisite  views  of  the 
lofty  summits.  The  precipitous  hills  rendered  traveling  diffi- 
cult and  fatiguing.  Still,  we  went  on,  climbing  up  and  up — 
ever  climbing — the  prospect  growing  more  and  more  dreary 
step  by  step.  Great  mists  moved  lightly  overhead,  and  now 
and  then  some  monarch  of  the  great  ranges  in  our  front  had 
his  lofty  brow  wrapped  in  the  delicate  embrace  of  white  clouds, 
which  trembled  into  fantastic  shapes  of  smoke-wreaths  and  cas- 
tles and  towers,  and  sometimes  took  the  contour  of  the  moun- 
tains themselves.  There  was  no  road  or  beaten  path  to  follow. 
But  how  delicious  the  sunlight  on  the  tree-stems  through  the 
glades  of  that  wild  forest!  How  delicate  the  green  mosses 
clothing  the  trunks  of  the  fallen  monarchs!  How  crystal  and 
sweet  the  water  which  we  found  and  drank  from  the  foamy 
brooks ! 

After  flanking  the  town  of  Lenoir,  county  seat  of  Caldwell, 
we  accidentally  and  providentially  fell  in  with  a  member  of 
the  numerous  Estes  family,  a  stalwart  Unionist,  who  escorted  us 
to  a  commodious  cave  between  two  great  hills,  where  we  found 


140  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

a  number  of  deserters  from  the  Confederate  army,  together  with 
several  refugees.  These  men  welcomed  us  with  open  arms,  for 
there  was  a  sort  of  kinship  between  us  which  made  us  at  once 
the  strongest  friends.  It  was  in  this  section  that  we  became 
associated  with  many  of  these  brave  and  hardy  mountaineers, 
and  had  from  their  lips  the  story  of  their  present  life,  which  was 
full  of  peril  and  sublime  heroism. 

These  men  were  associated  with  another  class  called  "lyers- 
out,"  who  lived  in  caves  and  other  retreats,  and  who  had  resisted 
or  evaded  the  conscription  all  the  years  of  the  war — a  period  to 
them  and  their  families  of  vicissitude  and  suffering.  In  all  my 
wanderings  I  never  saw  more  determined  men ;  and,  mingling 
among  them,  I  thought  of  the  brave  defenders  of  the  Tyrol, 
of  the  hardy  Waldenses,  fighting  and  dying  among  their  native 
hills  for  dear  liberty's  sake.  Most  of  the  noble  fellows  whom  we 
thus  met  on  the  mountains  of  Western  North  Carolina  were,  be- 
fore the  war,  in  comfortable  circumstances,  owning  pleasant  and 
profitable  farms,  but  now  all  were  reduced  to  want,  most  of  them 
illy  clad  and  penniless.  I  saw  men  in  this  region  who,  com- 
pelled to  abandon  everything  because  of  their  devotion  to  the 
government  and  the  Union  of  their  forefathers,  had  not  dared 
to  cross  their  own  door-sills,  although  almost  daily  they  had  seen 
their  homes  from  their  hiding-places  in  the  dense  forests  and 
among  the  mountains  they  loved  so  well. 

While  thus  exiled  in  enforced  idleness,  their  brave,  true- 
hearted  and  devoted  wives  performed  every  drudgery,  working 
the  little  farms,  and  often  at  the  dead  hour  of  night,  at  the  hazard 
of  their  lives,  carrying  food  and  other  necessaries  to  the  refugees, 
in  whose  well-being  they  were  so  warmly  interested.  A  volume 
would  be  needed,  were  I  to  rehearse  the  tales  of  suffering  and 
the  narratives  of  irregular  warfare  practiced  on  these  people. 

The  women  whom  I  met  upon  the  mountains  of  Western 
North  Carolina  and  Eastern  Tennessee,  while  constantly  sur- 
rounded by  terrible  dangers,  and  often  caused  to  suffer,  were  as 
heroic  as  any  whose  deeds  are  recorded  in  our  country's  annals. 
In  every  age  and  clime  woman  has  proved  herself  the  good  angel 
sent  by  Heaven  to  alleviate  human  misery.  In  the  depths  of 
the  African  jungles  Mungo  Park  would  have  perished  but  for 
the  sympathy  and  generous  assistance  of  the  dusky  maidens  who 
ministered  to  his  necessities. 

We  had  but  little  difficulty  in  persuading  a  hundred  and 
more  loyal  North  Carolinians  to  accompany  us  on  our  journey 
to  the  Union  lines,  wherever  they  might  be,  reaching  which  we 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  141 

promised  to  use  our  influence  in  procuring  them  arms,  ammuni- 
tion, clothing,  etc.,  and  with  but  little  hesitation  they  bade  their 
wives  and  little  ones  farewell,  and  started. 

Their  wives  would  pray  for  them,  they  said,  and  if  they 
were  fortunate  enough  to  procure  the  needed  articles,  they  would 
return  and  be  able  to  protect  their  homes,  and  put  an  end  to  the 
atrocities  which  had  been  prevalent  in  that  section  for  several 
years.  How  the  weather-beaten  faces  of  these  men  glowed 
under  the  inspiration  of  that  thought!  How  fondly  the  little 
hands  of  their  children  clung  around  the  necks  of  these  self-sacri- 
ficing mountaineers  in  the  solemn  and,  perchance,  lasting  part- 
ing, and  how  anxious  were  their  noble  wives  that  they  might 
be  successful  in  obtaining  the  ardently-desired  supplies. 

A  fatiguing  march  of  two  days  brought  us  to  the  summit 
of  Grandfather  Mountain,  which  holds  its  head  more  than  6,000 
feet  above  the  sea.  Here  we  found  the  family  of  a  Baptist 
clergyman  named  Prickett.  These  good  people,  despite  their 
wretchedness,  extended  a  kindly  welcome,  bidding  us  make 
ourselves  as  comfortable  as  the  limited  capacity  of  the  rudely- 
constructed  log  cabin  allowed.  Most  of  our  party,  however, 
continued  on  to  what  was  called  the  "Rock-House,"  simply  a 
huge  boulder,  under  which  Mr.  Prickett  and  his  two  sons  had 
often  found  refuge  when  sought  for  by  Confederates.  Mrs. 
Prickett  regretted  she  had  nothing  of  the  meat  kind  with  which 
to  regale  us,  but  shortly  afterwards  "Sim"  Philyaw,  a  noted 
Union  scout,  arrived  with  a  young  black  bear  he  had  killed  near 
the  old  saw-mill  below.  This  was  a  grateful  surprise  to  all. 
Myself  and  three  companions  ate  heartily  of  Bruin's  savory 
parts,  the  first  bear  meat  I  had  ever  tasted,  and  made  our  way  to 
the  place  of  refuge,  where  we  passed  a  terrible  night,  owing  to 
a  severe  snow-storm,  which  set  in  early  in  the  evening. 

When  day  at  length  broke  the  .ground  was  covered  with 
fleecy  flakes  to  the  depth  of  several  inches,  and  my  heart  almost 
failed  me  as  I  remembered  that  I  was  without  covering  for  my 
feet,  my  boots  having  long  since  become  useless ;  that  I  had  no 
hat ;  that  my  thin  blouse  was  in  tatters ;  that  my  red  flannel 
shirt,  which  I  had  worn  more  than  six  months  without  a  change, 
was  threadbare,  and  that  my  trousers  reached  but  to  my  knees. 
I  feared  I  must  now  certainly  perish,  so  intense  was  the  cold 
which  had  set  in  in  earnest,  so  biting  was  the  blast  which  swept 
the  mountain. 

The  prospect  before  us  was  not  pleasant  to  contemplate.       In 
an  inhospitable  waste,  thousands  of  feet  above  the  sea's  level,. 


142  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

with  a  tempest  raging,  hungry  and  almost  naked,  with  three- 
score men,  comparative  strangers,  at  one  time  enemies,  whose 
condition  was  but  little  better  than  my  own,  hundreds  of  miles 
still  to  be  traversed,  giddy  heights  to  be  ascended,  dangerous 
rivers  to  be  crossed,  and  the  ever  present  fear  of  recapture,  be- 
fore we  could  reach  the  haven  of  our  heart's  fondest  desires, 
rendered  our  situation  anything  but  inviting. 

Our  guides  were  not  in  the  most  amiable  mood  when  day 
broke,  and  my  worst  fears  were  realized  when  they  informed  us 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  proceed  until  the  storm  abated — 
until  no  trail  would  be  left  of  our  march.  We  appealed  to  them 
:to  make  another  start,  and  were  profuse  in  our  promises  of  good 
things  we  would  buy  for  them  on  reaching  our  lines,  but  for 
.several  hours  they  were  obdurate,  and  refused  to  move.  Mean- 
time, they  kept  a  huge  fire  blazing  under  the  edge  of  the  rock. 
This  was  the  only  cheerful  thing  on  that  mountain. 

After  the  noon  hour,  however,  they  were  persuaded  to 
resume  the  journe'y,  which  increased  my  sufferings  more  than 
tongue  or  pen  can  tell.  My  companions  pitied  me  and  had 
great  solicitude,  but  they  could  do  nothing  to  ameliorate  my 
condition.  Just  before  night  we  were  joined  by  Major  E.  A. 
Davis,  of  the  Third  North  Carolina  Mounted  Infantry  (Union) 
Regiment,  who  was  on  the  mountain  looking  for  recruits.  With 
his  Henry  rifle,  a  six-shooter,  and  a  heavy  navy  revolver,  he  was 
a  valuable  acquisition  to  our  party,  as  he  supplied  us  with  bear, 
wild  hogs  and,  occasionally,  a  turkey. 

,  It  was  while  making  our  weary  way  across  this  trackless 
waste  that  a  desperate  engagement  occurred  between  a  company 
of  Confederates,  under  Captain  Hartley,  and  a  small  band  of 
Unionists,  commanded  by  his  brother.  Lieutenant  James  Hart- 
ley, of  the  Third  North  Carolina  Mounted  Infantry  (Union) 
Regiment.  The  fight  lasted  over  an  hour,  several  men  on  each 
side  being  killed  and  wounded.  A  day  or  two  after  I  met  Lieu- 
tenant Hartley  and  several  of  his  men  who  had  taken  part  in 
the  fight. 

We  diverged  somewhat  from  our  true  course  to  view  "Lit- 
tle Lost  Cove,"  a  great  natural  curiosity.  The  cavern,  they  told 
us,  was  three  thousand  feet  deep,  and  a  silence,  not  of  gloom,  but 
of  reverence,  seemed  to  fall  upon  us  as  we  overlooked  it.  Roll- 
ing large  boulders  into  the  cavity,  to  listen  to  the  awful  rever- 
berations which  they  made  as  they  tumbled  down  its  sides  and 
dashed  to  the  bottom,  gave  me  much  pleasure,  despite  my  desire 
to  proceed.  Here  were  virgin  rocks  upon  which  no  pestiferous 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  143 

quack  had  painted  his  shameless  sign,  precipices  which  had  not 
been  invaded  by  the  grand  tour,  whose  solitary  magnificence 
thrills  and  impresses  you,  as  if  in  some  barren  land  you  came 
upon  the  brilliant  lustre  of  a  priceless  diamond. 

We  reached  Crab  Orchard,  Tennessee,  November  6th,  and 
owing  to  the  cold  and  the  slippery  state  of  the  walking,  were 
compelled  to  make  a  stop.  A  Mr.  Buck  generously  gave  us  a 
cow,  which,  being  slaughtered,  afforded  us  a  change  of  food, 
which  was  highly  relished.  Most  of  our  party  quartered  in  a 
cave  between  two  mountains,  myself  and  companions  stopping 
at  the  comfortable  home  of  Mr.  Francis  Marion  Hampton,  for- 
merly a  member  of  the  Tennessee  legislature,  and  a  cousin  of 
General  Wade  Hampton,  of  South  Carolina.  He  came  down 
from  his  covert  on  the  mountain  at  midnight,  and  had  a  long 
talk  with  us.  He  had  inhabited  a  cave  for  more  than  a  year. 

Next  day  we  again  started,  and  feeling  greatly  refreshed, 
marched  swiftly,  notwithstanding  the  drawbacks  of  a  heavy  rain 
and  the  rough  condition  of  the  roads.  Time  was  when  all  this 
section  of  country  was  romantic  ground.  "The  great  Indian 
war  trail,  along  which  so  many  scenes  of  violence  and  murder 
were  enacted,  ran  near  this  point,"  said  Major  Davis.  "From 
the  time  of  the  settlement  along  the  beautiful  Chucky  River, 
more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  until  early  in  the  present  cen- 
tury," continued  the  Major,  "the  settler  took  his  life  in  his  hands 
daily,  and  the  war-cry  of  the  Indian  was  a  familiar  sound  to 
his  ever-listening  ears." 

We  had  now  reached  the  chain  of  the  Great  Smoky  Moun- 
tain Range — the  very  spot  of  all  others  we  had  been  particularly 
cautioned  against  visiting  just  before  leaving  Charleston,  owing 
to  the  presence  there  of  Indians,  acting  in  the  interest  of  the 
Confederacy.  The  hills  everywhere  rose  to  a  height  of  several 
thousand  feet,  and  seen  from  a  distance  they  seemed  bathed  in 
a  mellow  haze,  like  that  distinguishing  the  atmosphere  of  Indian 
summer.  We  passed  through  a  gap  which  had  a  great  eleva- 
tion; beneath  us  were  vast  canyons,  from  which  came  up  the 
angry  roar  of  creeks,  greatly  swollen  by  the  heavy  rains.  We 
looked  down  upon  the  tops  of  mighty  forests,  never  tiring  of 
their  grandeur. 

The  pathways  grew  rockier  as  we  clambered  along,  but  the 
air  was  pure  and  refreshing,  and  had  I  been  comfortably  clad 
and  in  good  condition  for  sight-seeing,  I  should  have  reveled 
in  the  beauty  of  the  ever-changing  scenes.  As  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  on  every  hand,  stood  long  lines  of  towering  crags, 


144  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

from  which  there  seemed  no  outlet.  Once  I  turned  on  the 
crest  of  a  prodigious  mountain,  and,  looking  Carolinavvard,  I 
saw  our  old  friends  of  the  Blue  Ridge  and  Allegheny  Ranges,, 
scattered  for  miles  among  the  dark  and  forbidding-looking  for- 
ests. Before  and  behind  us  were  deep  ravines,  and  beyond  allr 
uncounted  peaks,  which  the  sky  seemed  tenderly  to  bend  over 
and  kiss  with  affection. 

It  was  while  crossing  the  placid  Indian  Creek,  or  river,  that 
we  had  a  startling  surprise,  and  a  tragedy  was  averted  with 
difficulty.  The  mountains  through  which  this  crystal  stream 
made  its  way,  were  mirrored  in  its  rain-rippled  breast.  Upon 
this  beautiful  country  through  which  we  were  now  fleeing  for 
life  and  liberty,  the  Indian  had  lavished  that  wealth  of  affection 
he  always  feels  for  nature  and  never  for  man.  He  gave  to  the 
multitudinous  hills  and  streams  the  soft  poetic  names  of  his  ex- 
pansive language — names  which  the  white  man  has  in  many  cases 
thrown  away,  substituting  the  barbarous  common-places  of  the 
rude  days  of  early  settlement. 

Indian  Creek  heads  in  the  neighboring  Smoky  Mountains, 
and  swelling  into  volume  free  from  countless  springs  of  coldest, 
purest,  most  transparent  water,  which  send  little  torrents  down 
all  the  ravines,  it  goes  foaming  and  dashing  over  myriad  rocks, 
sometimes  leaping  from  dizzy  heights  into  narrow  and  wild- 
looking  canyons,  until  it  comes  to,  and  is  lost  in  the  noble  and 
majestic  French  Broad  River,  which  we  successfully  crossed  a 
few  days  afterwards. 

It  was  midnight  when  we  reached  a  fordable  point,  and 
much  difficulty  was  experienced  in  crossing.  Here  a  mule  and 
horse,  captured  a  few  days  before  by  our  party,  proved  of  great 
usefulness,  as  we  used  the  animals  as  ferry-boats.  Each  carried 
two  persons  across  the  flood  at  a  time ;  then  by  means  of  a  long 
rope,  the  animals  were  guided  back  for  other  passengers.  Most 
of  our  party  had  thus  been  ferried  to  the  left  bank,  when  the 
North  Carolinians  and  Tennesseeans  became  embroiled  in  a 
fierce  fight,  bad  blood  between  them  for  the  past  day  or  two  hav- 
ing been  engendered. 

For  a  time  it  was  a  serious  affair,  and  several  were  badly 
cut  in  the  encounter.  We  had  much  trouble  in  stopping  the 
fight  and  reconciling  the  combatants.  A  few  days  afterward 
they  engaged  in  another  combat,  but  without  serious  results. 

The  ascent  of  Higgins'  Ridge  was  both  tedious  and  painful 
to  me,  requiring  five  hours  in  its  difficult  accomplishment.  The 
gigantic  hill,  over  which  we  made  our  laborious  way,  was  clad 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  145 

in  the  sombre  garb  of  the  balsam — the  sad  and  haughty  monarch 
of  those  great  heights.  The  odorous  boughs  of  these  mighty 
trees  brushed  against  the  clouds,  while  in  the  deep  thickets, 
where  the  sunbeams  can  hardly  penetrate,  safe  refuges  for  the 
mountain  lion,  wolf  and  bear  are  afforded. 

It  was  from  the  summit  of  this  hill  that  I  for  the  first  time 
gazed  upon  and  across  the  lovely  Cumberland  Valley.  Far 
below  we  distinctly  saw  the  town  of  Greenville,  the  old  home  of 
Andrew  Johnson,  who,  the  previous  week,  had  been  elected 
Vice-President  of  the  United  States  on  the  ticket  with  our 
sainted  Lincoln.  I  also  saw  Jonesboro'  away  to  the  right,  while 
other  villages  dotted  the  beautiful  plains  below. 

Bull  Gap,  too,  where  a  portion  of  the  Union  army  was  said 
to  be  encamped,  and  our  present  objective  point,  was  within 
sight,  but  a  long  distance  away,  across  the  broad  valley  in  our 
immediate  front.  With  wistful  eyes  I  looked  to  the  bold  pro- 
montory, and  what  longings  I  had  to  be  at  its  base.  Another 
day,  our  guides  promised,  would  bring  us  to  it,  and  in  this 
joyous  expectation  I  nerved  myself  for  the  final  tramp. 

Hastening  along  in  gleeful  mood  we  were  suddenly  thrown 
into  a  state  of  terror  and  demoralization  by  the  sudden  and  to- 
tally unexpected  appearance  of  a  number  of  horsemen,  riding 
furiously  upon  an  adjoining  and  parallel  ridge,  with  a  view  of 
intercepting  our  descent  into  the  valley.  By  dint  of  great 
effort  and  a  long  and  fatiguing  run  we  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  desired  point,  and,  although  a  number  of  shots  were  dis- 
charged, none  of  our  party  were  injured. 

A  weary  climb  and  we  stood  upon  the  crest  of  Big  Butt 
Mountain,  from  which  we  had  a  grand  view  of  the  gorgeous 
valley.  In  a  few  hours  my  torn  and  constantly  bleeding  feet 
would  receive  care  and  attention ;  in  a  few  hours  I  would  again 
be  under  the  folds  of  the  flag  I  had  followed  in  the  field  since 
April,  1861 ;  in  a  few  hours  my  fears  and  trials  and  fatigues  would 
be  ended,  and  joy  and  peace  reign  in  my  mind. 

Down  the  steep  side  of  the  great  hill  we  went  at  accelerated 
pace,  when  all  of  a  sudden  the  gravest  fears  took  possession  of 
our  souls.  A  thundering  reverberation  which  came  up  from 
the  hitherto  quiet  valley  shook  the  grand  old  hills  about  us, 
causing  an  instantaneous  halt.  What  could  have  caused  the 
noise?  The  answer  came  the  next  instant  in  the  unmistakable 
report  of  artillery  and  musketry;  and  gazing  across  the  plains 
before  us  the  smoke  arising  from  a  battle  then  and  there  in 
progress  was  plainly  visible.  Our  hearts  sank  within  us,  and 


146  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

sadness  and  fear  was  depicted  on  every  face.  With  an  army 
across  our  path,  and  desperate  bush-whackers  hovering  about 
us,  how  should  be  escape  capture — perhaps  death? 

As  the  evening  shades  fell  there  was  a  lull — a  sudden  ter- 
mination of  the  conflict.  What  would  the  morrow  bring  forth  ? 

A  young  woman,  living  at  the  base  of  the  great  mountain, 
solicitous  for  our  welfare  and  deeply  commiserating  our  wretch- 
edness and  forlorn  condition,  volunteering  to  make  a  recon- 
noissance,  mounted  her  "filly,"  a  young  horse,  and  with  a  bag  of 
corn  before  her  improvised  saddle,  a  primitive  concern  without 
stirrups,  rode  away  on  the  pretence  of  visiting  a  neighboring  mill 
to  have  the  corn  ground.  She  returned  in  safety  at  dusk,  with 
the  discomforting  intelligence  that  General  Gillem,  the  Union 
commander  at  Blue  Lick  Springs,  had  been  disastrously  de- 
feated, and  was  precipitately  falling  back  on  the  strong  defences 
at  Knoxville. 

Desperately  in  want  of  food,  Captains  Todd  and  Grant,  who 
had  started  with  Captain  Lewis  and  myself  from  Charleston,  six 
weeks  previously,  went  off  in  search  of  something  that  would 
afford  nourishment  to  our  weakened  stomachs  and  give  strength 
to  our  tottering  frames.  It  was  during  their  absence  that  a 
young  mountaineer,  who  manifested  deep  concern  in  me,  pleaded 
to  guide  me  to  his  cave,  a  refuge  some  miles  away,  where  safety 
would  be  assured  and  many  comforts  found.  He  was  eloquent 
in  depicting  the  manifold  dangers  surrounding  me,  and  declared 
our  party  could  not  hope  to  reach  our  lines  at  Knoxville,  now 
that  a  large  and  active  force  of  a  vigilant  and  desperate  enemy 
intervened.  Finally  accepting  his  view  of  the  situation,  I  re- 
luctantly consented  to  accept  his  advice  and  proffered  hospital- 
ity, providing  my  three  companions  in  captivity  could  accom- 
pany us.  This,  he  declared  to  be  impossible,  owing  to  the 
incapacity  of  his  accommodations,  sufficient,  he  said,  for  only 
two,  and  while  further  laboring  to  induce  me  to  accept  his 
generous  invitation,  we  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  heavy 
hoof-beats,  the  firing  of  small  arms,  and  the  demoniac  yells  of 
a  body  of  horsemen,  rapidly  advancing  up  the  deep  and  wild 
ravine  in  which  we  thought  we  had  immunity  from  danger.  The 
bush-whackers,  whom  we  dreaded,  had  discovered  our  hiding- 
place. 

Thus  aroused  from  a  train  of  sad  reflections,  I  sprang  from 
the  trunk  of  a  prostrate  monarch  of  the  forest  on  which  I  had 
been  reclining,  and  without  taking  a  ceremonious  leave  of  my 
friend,  dashed  directly  up  the  steep  mountain  side,  lacerating 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  147 

my  bare  feet  and  legs  as  I  ran  in  my  headlong  course,  among 
the  rocks  and  brush  which  lined  my  rough  and  darkened  path- 
way. My  boots  had  long  since  pegged  out,  and  the  semblance 
of  a  uniform  which  I  had  worn  over  six  months,  without  remov- 
ing, was  much  torn  and  in  a  sadly  dilapidated  condition.  My 
legs,  from  knees  down,  were  entirely  exposed. 

My  rapid  flight  up  the  great  hill  was  greatly  accelerated  by 
a  shower  of  bullets  which  pelted  the  hillside.  To  increase  my 
discomforts  an  easterly  wind  that  pierced  to  the  marrow,  and 
which  had  prevailed  for  a  day  or  two,  brought  a  gale  and  a  heavy 
rain,  intermingled  with  hail,  thoroughly  saturating  what  little 
apparel  remained  upon  my  attenuated  frame,  down  which  ran 
copious  streams  of  icy  water.  The  hail-stones  beat  upon  my 
unprotected  head,  arms  and  feet,  while  the  cold  was  so  intense 
that  I  had  but  little  use  of  my  hands,  my  feet  seeming  like  balls, 
so  benumbed  had  they  become.  Two  weeks  previously  they 
had  been  frozen  while  crossing  Grandfather  Mountain,  in 
wading  through  six  inches  of  snow. 

Finally  attaining  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  only  accom- 
plished by  laborious  and  painful  effort,  I  fell  exhausted  and  un- 
conscious— nature  had  run  its  course.  How  long  I  remained 
in  this  state,  I  have  no  means  of  knowing,  but  when  I  at  length 
awoke  and  realized  that  I  must  perish  unless  I  could  get  my 
blood  in  circulation,  I  set  to  work  by  indulging  in  such  exer- 
cise as  I  was  capable  of.  I  stamped  my  feet  upon  the  cold,  wet 
ground,  and  made  an  effort  to  run,  stopping  occasionally  to  rub 
my  limbs  against  logs  which  everywhere  strewed  the  hillside. 

The  night  was  the  longest,  dreariest  and  most  terrible  of 
any  I  had  ever  experienced,  and  heartily  glad  was  I  when  the 
dawn  of  morning  approached,  although  it  brought  little  cheer. 
True,  I  could  view  the  surrounding  country  for  a  long  distance, 
and  in  other  conditions  might  have  appreciated  the  grotesque 
ridges,  rocks,  escarpments,  undulating  hillocks  and  meandering 
rivers,  now  flooded,  but  I  was  not  on  an  excursion  of  pleasure 
bent,  and  the  sights  presented  had  but  little  charm  for  me. 

The  thought  I  had  adopted  from  the  first  that  I  would 
not  perish  in  the  wilderness,  but  would  again  reach  my  home, 
often  revived  my  sinking  spirits,  when,  from  faintness  and  ex- 
haustion, I  felt  but  little  inclination  for  life.  I  must  confess, 
however,  that  after  making  my  way  along  the  dizzy  mountain- 
top  through  a  field  of  tangled  trunks  which  seemed  intermina- 
ble, at  one  of  my  compulsory  stops  I  found  myself  seriously 
considering  whether,  after  all,  it  was  not  preferable  to  die  there 


148  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

than  renew  the  almost  necessary  superhuman  effort  to  proceed. 

Alone  in  that  vast  and  inhospitable  wilderness  I  sometimes 
felt  that  all  attempt  to  escape  was  but  a  bitter  prolongation  of 
the  agony  of  dissolution,  but  a  seeming  whisper  in  the  air, 
"while  there  is  life  there  is  hope,"  dispelled  the  delusion,  and  I 
clambered  on. 

I  gradually  arrived  at  the  growing  consciousness  that  I  was 
starving,  yet  I  did  not  crave  food  until  I  suddenly  ran  across 
a  persimmon  tree,  still  partially  bearing  some  of  the  purple- 
covered  fruit,  of  which  I  was  exceeding  fond  when  a  boy.  I 
ate  ravenously  of  the  berries,  and  for  a  time  my  appetite  was 
fully  appeased.  A  long  period  had  gone  since  I  had  feasted 
so  luxuriously  on  this  fruit. 

There  were  thoughts  and  feelings  and  mental  anguishes 
without  number  that  crowded  through  my  bewildered  mind  that 
I  cannot  describe,  but  bitter  as  had  been  my  experiences  in 
various  Confederate  prison-pens  and  on  my  toilsome  tramp,  it 
was  not  unrelieved  by  some  of  the  most  precious  moments  I 
had  ever  known. 

I  did  not  suffer  for  want  of  water,  as  I  had  some  days 
before,  because  of  the  copious  rain-fall,  but  I  became  very  cold 
as  the  storm  continued  to  rage  with  increased  violence.  There 
was  no  protection  to  be  found,  save  in  the  poor  shelter  of  drip- 
ping trees,  and  this  was  poor  indeed.  My  armless  blouse  ex- 
posed my  arms,  and  as  I  gazed  upon  them  the  flesh  and  blood 
had  apparently  vanished.  The  skin  clung  to  the  bones  like  wet 
parchment,  which  it  resembled.  A  child's  hand  could  have 
clasped  them  from  wrist  to  shoulder.  I  might  add  by  way  of 
parenthesis,  that  a  few  days  afterwards,  on  reaching  home,  I 
could  not  turn  the  scales  at  ninety  pounds. 

Apparently  out  of  immediate  danger,  although  I  could  hear 
heavy  firing  in  the  distance,  convincing  me  a  battle  was  in 
progress,  I  sat  down  to  extricate  a  piece  of  stick  which  had  been 
forced  into  the  fleshy  part  of  my  heel,  and  while  engaged  in  the 
painful  operation,  and  contemplating  my  condition  and  the 
manifold  dangers  surrounding  me,  a  terrible  fear  took  possession 
of  my  soul. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  what  difficulties  I  had  to 
surmount.  Compelled  to  struggle  with  the  most  urgent  neces- 
sities, pierced  by  the  cold,  constantly  tormented  by  hunger,  a 
prey  to  misgivings  as  to  the  success  of  my  long  tramp,  uncer- 
tain at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  whether  I  should  see  its  setting 
rays,  and  doubtful  at  night  whether  I  should  witness  the  morn- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  149 

ing's  dawn,  every  thought  seemed  concentrated  in  the  ardent 
desire  to  live. 

Alone  in  that  awful  solitude,  among  great  overtowering  hills, 
which  touched  the  clouds;  in  wretchness  and  misery;  without 
food,  almost  destitute  of  appetite,  and  bare-footed,  my  heart  fast 
throbbing  in  the  exciting  run  for  life  had  now  almost  ceased  to 
pulsate. 

I  had  no  article  of  value  about  me — no  money,  no  knife  or 
other  weapon,  no  blanket,  no  utensil  in  which  to  cook,  noth- 
ing to  cook ;  neither  did  I  know  in  which  direction  to  turn,  which 
course  to  pursue. 

What  had  been  the  fate  of  my  companions  I  knew  not,  nor 
had  I  any  means  of  ascertaining.  Daylight  came  at  last,  bring- 
ing some  relief  to  my  anxious  mind.  I  was  on  the  brink 
of  despair  when  sounds  of  an  approaching  party  were  borne 
to  my  listening  ears.  Secreting  myself  I  soon  became  con- 
vinced that  they  were  friends,  and  when  near  enough  I  recog- 
nized Captain  Lewis  and  a  score  of  the  refugees  who  had  fol- 
lowed us  from  North  Carolina. 

I  cannot  express  the  gratitude  I  felt  as  I  bounded  like  a 
schoolboy  down  the  mountain's  side  to  find  the  firm  comrade 
with  whom  I  had  set  out  on  the  fateful  pilgrimage.  I  was 
affectionately  greeted,  having  been  given  up  for  lost.  We 
hastened  away,  keeping  along  under  the  heavy  shadows  of  the 
everlasting  hills,  into  which  we  could  retreat  did  such  a  step 
become  necessary,  but  although  we  constantly  heard  desultory 
firing  in  the  direction  of  the  railroad,  and  occasionally  saw  af- 
frighted farmers  along  Pigeon  and  French  Broad  Rivers  fleeing 
irom  the  invading  army,  we  managed  to  escape  observation,  and 
march  between  twenty  and  thirty  miles  a  day. 

In  less  than  a  week  we  were  safe  within  the  Union  lines  at 
Knoxville,  whose  citizens  we  found  in  a  high  state  of  excite- 
ment, consequent  upon  the  approach  of  Breckinridge's  half- 
starved  army. 

Shall  I  conclude  my  narrative  by  telling  you  with  what 
animation  Lewis  and  myself  rehearsed  to  Generals  Gillem,  Car- 
ter and  Ammen,  and  a  listening  company  of  brave  officers  who 
so  kindly  welcomed  us  to  that  heroic  town  the  story  of  our  suf- 
ferings and  escapes ;  how  they  cheered  us  by  complimentary 
remarks  upon  our  achievements — how  thoughts  of  an  old-fash- 
ioned Thanksgiving  with  the  dear  ones  at  home  that  night  made 
our  dreams  luminous  as  with  the  smiles  of  angels  ? 

No.      You  can  imagine  all  this,  and  if  you  have  ever  been 


150  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

in  such  perils  as  we  had  escaped,  you  will  understand  what  I 
mean  when  I  say  that  life  seemed  to  us,  in  those  first  hours 
of  deliverance,  like  a  resurrection,  in  which  we  stood  with  crowns 
upon  our  heads,  and  shining  pathways,  leading  heavenward, 
stretching  away  in  reaches  of  splendor  before  our  weary  feet. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE  GREAT  REVIEW. 

THE  American  people  had  no  conception  of  the  magnitude 
of  the  Union  armies  until  "the  cruel  war  was  over,"  and 
the  remnants  of  Grant's  and  Sherman's  warriors — genu- 
ine veterans — passed  in  glorious  review  over  the  wide  avenues 
of  the  National  Capital  forty-two  years  ago,  the  dignitaries  of 
our  land,  rescued  and  forever  safe  from  secession,  and  thou- 
sands of  patriotic ,  citizens  witnessing  the  greatest  and  noblest 
pageant  ever  seen  in  the  United  States,  if  not  in  the  world,  and 
surpassing  in  enthusiasm  and  patriotic  fervor  any  "triumph"  in 
Rome's  palmiest  days — a  spectacle  that  can  never  again  be  anti- 
cipated here.  Of  those  who  took  part  in  the  grand  review,  but 
few  remain. 

The  glitter  of  a  sea  of  steel  bayonets,  the  constant  flashing 
of  bright  sabres,  the  dazzling  light  from  brass  dogs  of  war,  whose 
fierce  barkings  had  been  heard  with  terror  by  the  enemy  and 
with  delight  by  the  Unionists  in  hundreds  of  sanguinary  engage- 
ments, and  the  waving  of  bullet-ridden  and  battle-torn  colors, 
brilliantly  floating  in  the  soft  breezes  those  lovely  days  in  May, 
1865,  were  most  inspiring. 

Was  it  any  wonder  that  the  greatest  throng  ever  up  to  that 
time  attracted  to  Washington  should  sit  or  stand  for  many  hours, 
transfixed  as  it  were,  by  the  panoramic  sight  of  moving  masses 
of  blue,  in  all  the  panoply  of  war,  passing  along  with  rhythmic 
motion  ? 

Such  marching,  such  music,  such  behavior  on  the  part  of 
those  stern-featured  men,  had  never  before  been  seen,  nor  will 
the  sublime  spectacle  ever  again  be  approximated. 

Boys  who  had  followed  the  lead  of  the  heroic  Hooker,  and 
toiled  with  him  in  climbing  the  rocky  steeps  at  Lookout  Moun- 
tain till  our  starry  banners  kissed  the  clouds ;  those  who  whirled 
down  the  beautiful  and  romantic  Shenandoah  Valley,  under  the 
plucky  and  intrepid  Sheridan ;  those  who  followed  the  ever-true 
Burnside  into  the  malarial  swamps  of  Roanoke  Island,  and  up 
Marye's  blazing  heights;  those  who  followed  Sherman  from 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  151 

Atlanta  to  the  sea ;  those  who  swept  grandly  with  Grant  through 
the  Wilderness,  and  faced  death  with  unblanched  faces  at  Cold 
Harbor,  and  those  who  pressed  with  exultant  feet  in  pursuit  of 
Lee's  decimated  and  shattered  columns  after  Richmond's  fall — 
these  men,  bronzed  and  stern-visaged.  marched  those  two  never- 
to-be-forgotten  days  as  mortals  had  never  marched  before,  nor 
since,  nor  ever  will  again. 

Within  the  short  space  of  nine  months  after  this,  nearly  one 
million  American  volunteers,  the  best  soldiers  the  world  ever 
beheld,  melted  away  into  private  life — honorably  discharged  from 
the  service  of  a  Nation  they  had  unflinchingly  and  faithfully 
served  through  four  long  and  bitter  years,  and  returned  to  their 
homes  to  become  better  citizens — this  mighty  task  being  accom- 
plished so  easily  and  quietly  that  the  country  scarcely  realized  the 
fact.  This  mighty  host  was  absorbed  with  scarcely  a  ripple  irt 
the  commercial  or  business  world. 

To-day  the  few  remaining  survivors  of  the  greatest  conflict 
recorded  in  history  are  surrounded  by  none  of  the  pomp  or  cir- 
cumstance of  war.  No  shattered  cannon  disputes  the  supremacy 
of  the  flag  under  which  they  marched.  No  rattle  of  musketry 
or  clang  of  sabre  speaks  of  deadly  conflict,  no  blast  of  bugle  or 
throb  of  drum  summons  them  to  ensanguined  fields.  There  is  no 
rumble  of  artillery  hurrying  to  defend  an  endangered  battle  line 
— no  shell  screaming  in  the  air ;  no  ghastly  faces  turned  rear- 
ward on  stretcher  or  litter ;  no  gleaming  surgeon's  knife,  no  hos- 
pital floating  its  peculiar  and  sacred  flag  and  beckoning  wounded 
and  dying  to  its  friendly  shelter. 

Peace,  sweet  peace,  made  possible  by  the  sacrifices  of  the 
stalwart  men  of  1861-1865,  now  smiles  on  all  the  land.  From 
towns  and  cities  shattered  by  shot  and  shell  time  has  rubbed 
every  scar.  Into  homes  desolated,  content  long  ago  came,  and 
at  broken  firesides,  once  shrouded  in  gloom,  the  angel  of  peace 
has  furled  her  wing.  Industry,  commerce  and  all  the  arts  of 
peace  flourish  as  never  before.  Resentments,  long  and  bitterly 
cherished,  are  hushed,  and  the  embers  of  old  exasperations  and 
hates  have  died  out  upon  the  old  heart. 

Fires  are  now  burning  dimly  at  the  infrequent  gatherings  of 
those  who  fought  the  battles  in  the  war  for  the  Union,  and  as 
they  look  into  each  other's  faces,  once  grimed  and  blackened 
with  the  smoke  of  battle ;  as  they  receive  the  eager  grasp  of  hands 
that  more  than  four  decades  ago  pledged  that  eternal  brother- 
hood which  true  soldiers  best  can  feel ;  as  they  recall  the  glorious 
deeds,  the  thrilling  events,  and  the  bitter  hours  they  all  have 


152  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

seen,  may  the  ties  then  formed,  and  renewed  from  time  to  time, 
bind  them  afresh  into  that  glorious  brotherhood  born  of  a  com- 
mon danger,  a  common  hardship  and  a  common  patriotism. 

Who  among  them  will  ever  forget  the  friendship  of  those 
cruel  and  never-ending  days?  Who  among  them  would  blot 
from  memory  a  single  one  of  those  hours  in  which  hardship  and 
glory,  and  suffering  and  joy  pressed  close  upon  each  other's  heels 
•day  by  day,  and  year  after  year? 


SECOND  COLD  HARBOR. 

WHILE  the  minds  of  patriotic  citizens  are  more  or  less  cen- 
tered on  the  services  and  sacrifices  of  the  soldiers  who 
fought  for  and  preserved  the  Union  in  the  bitter  contest 
of  1861-1865,  is  it  not  well  for  participants  in  that  prolonged  and 
terrible  struggle  to  rehearse  scenes  in  which  they  took  part,  as  a 
means  of  impressing  upon  the  present  money-getting  generation 
the  nature  of  the  contest  in  which  more  than  half  a  million  lives 
and  two  billions  in  treasure  were  given  to  perpetuate  the  best 
form  of  government  ever  vouchsafed  to  man,  as  well  as  to  incul- 
cate lessons  of  patriotism  and  wisdom  for  those  to  come  after  ? 

Nearly  half  a  century  ago  many  young  men  who  were  serv- 
ing in  the  Union  Army  participated  in  one  of  the  most  fiercely 
contested  battles  of  the  war  at  Cold  Harbor,  Virginia — an  engage- 
ment that  raged  with  great  fury  for  several  days,  in  which  scenes 
were  witnessed  that  have  no  parallel  in  American  history,  and 
where  brave  and  determined  men  grappled  at  each  other's  throats 
in  a  fierce  and  desperate  struggle  for  possession  of  a  coveted 
field. 

I  will  not  weary  the  reader  by  attempting  to  tell  of  the  hasty 
and  toilsome  march  of  the  Ninth  New  Jersey  Regiment  from  day- 
break on  the  morning  of  June  3,  1864,  under  a  scorching  sun, 
to  reinforce  the  weakened  and  imperiled  line  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  at  that  point,  nor  dwell  on  the  gallant  assault  it  made 
on  the  enemy's  works,  from  which  it  was  repeatedly  repelled. 
That  day  Jerseymen  dropped  under  the  withering  fire  as  grass 
before  a  scythe.  It  caused  a  halt — it  was  more  than  human  nature 
could  withstand.  But  with  no  thought  of  giving  way,  the  men, 
with  one  accord,  instantly  and  without  instruction  or  working 
tools,  commenced  the  arduous  task  of  constructing  what  might 
serve  as  a  cover  and  from  which  they  could  with  some  degree  of 
confidence  and  safety  return  the  shots  of  the  desperate  and  vigi- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  153 

lant  enemy,  advantageously  posted.  Bayonets,  knives,  forks, 
cups,  tin  plates  and  bare  hands  were  the  only  utensils  available 
for  the  work  in  hand. 

When  the  Confederate  beheld  the  pile  of  earth  thus  suddenly 
thrown  up  in  their  front,  and  but  a  few  yards  away,  they  made 
repeated  charges,  but  were  as  often  driven  back  under  a  rain- 
storm of  shell,  canister  and  grape,  causing  terrible  execution. 
When  night  came,  long  and  earnestly  wished  for  by  both  armies, 
and  darkness  enshrouded  the  gloomy  woods,  there  was  a  prac- 
tical suspension  of  the  murderous  contest,  and  men  from  both 
works  attempted  the  rescue  of  the  wounded,  lying  between.  This 
task  was  both  difficult  and  dangerous. 

Two  days  after  this,  during  which  time  several  charges  and 
counter-charges  were  made,  a  fearful,  fever-breeding,  nauseous 
stench  filled  the  stagnant  air  from  the  almost  numberless  and  cor- 
rupt bodies  of  the  slain  lying  exposed  between  the  outer  works 
of  the  contending  forces,  separated  as  they  were  only  by  a  few 
yards.  Among  the  swollen  and  blackened  corpses,  a  hideous  spec- 
tacle, lay  many  wounded,  unable  to  move  hand  or  foot,  whose 
mournful  and  pathetic  cries  as  they  lay  on  the  parched  earth 
under  a  consuming  sun,  suffering  every  torment  from  wounds, 
hunger  and  thirst,  caused  bitter  pangs  in  the  hearts  of  the  living, 
who  were  powerless  to  aid  them.  It  was  a  sickening,  revolting 
sight  to  be  compelled  to  endure  the  foul-smelling  bodies,  bloated 
to  the  dimensions  of  a  flour  barrel,  but  far  sadder  to  listen  to 
the  constant  and  piteous  appeals  of  the  wounded  and  the  dying, 
totally  unable  to  relieve  their  wants  and  necessities,  or  in  any  way 
escape  the  contagion  surrounding  them. 

No  pen  or  brush  can  adequately  portray  the  agonizing 
scenes  the  men  of  both  armies  were  compelled  for  days  to  wit- 
ness at  Cold  Harbor  in  June,  1864.  The  ground  swarmed  with 
great  black  beetles  and  huge  ants,  which  held  high  carnival  on 
the  putrid  bodies  of  men,  who  a  short  time  before  the  embodiment 
of  health  and  manly  beauty,  had  been  engaged  in  a  desperate  con- 
test for  supremacy.  Strange  to  narrate,  a  number  of  the  wounded 
who  had  fallen  helplessly  between  the  works  girdled  by  death, 
survived  until  a  truce  was  gained,  but  they  were  human  wrecks, 
mere  shadows  of  themselves  and  scarcely  recognizable,  so  pro- 
longed and  terrible  had  been  their  privations  and  so  intense  their 
sufferings. 

Can  you,  reader,  imagine  the  agonizing  torments  endured  by 
these  unfortunate  and  helpless  men  who  thus  suffered  through 
those  long,  scorching  days  and  dreary,  never-ending  nights  ?  Pic- 


154  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

ture  them,  if  you  can,  as  they  lie  stretched  in  every  conceivable 
position  in  that  pestilential  swamp,  writhing  in  agony  from 
ghastly  wounds,  without  water  to  quench  their  consuming  thirst, 
or  food  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  hunger.  Hear  their  plaintive, 
heart-rending  appeals,  their  deep  and  mournful  groans,  their 
prayers  for  mercy,  relief  or  death,  as  the  field  about  and  above 
them  is  torn  by  hissing  shot,  while  nerve-racking  grape,  canister 
and  the  ever-present  bullet,  constantly  flying  about  them,  added 
to  their  fears  and  bodily  distresses. 

Five  terrible  days  passed  ere  relief  came  to  the  sufferers  in 
the  shape  of  an  armistice,  finally  granted  by  the  Confederate  com- 
mander, during  which  both  forces  were  allowed  to  recover  the 
wounded  and  bury  the  dead. 

But  what  a  task !  Long  trenches  were  quickly  excavated  and 
into  their  depths  the  decomposed  and  unrecognizable  corpses  of 
men  who  a  few  hours  previously  had  been  so  full  of  animation 
and  daring  were  hurriedly,  though  tenderly  and  devoutly  lowered 
— the  brief  time  allotted  for  the  human  purpose  not  permitting 
ministerial  ceremony  of  any  nature,  even  had  any  of  the  so-called 
"fighting"  chaplains  the  temerity  to  venture  to  the  place  of  rude 
but  necessary  interment.  It  was  nauseating  to  those  who  were 
detailed  to  handle  the  putrefying,  disfigured  corpses,  while  those 
to  whom  the  duty  of  removing  the  wounded  had  been  delegated 
performed  their  task  with  loving  hands  and  bleeding  hearts.  In 
many  instances  maggots  and  other  vermin  swarmed  among  the 
wounds  of  those  who  had  been  maimed,  presenting  a  revolting 
sight — one  that  no  man,  made  however  callous-hearted  by  war, 
would  ever  wish  to  behold. 

Here  let  me  draw  a  veil  and  present  a  scene  painted  in  golden 
tints  by  a  friend  who  recently  visited  the  once  flame-lined  and 
gory  field  of  Cold  Harbor,  where  so  many  gallant  sons  of  our  lit- 
tle commonwealth  gave  their  lives  that  our  Government  might  not 
fade  away,  and  where  in  now  awful  solitude  he  found  a  large  can- 
non partially  imbedded  in  the  ground,  the  brazen  muzzle  affording 
a  secure  place  for  the  building  of  nests  by  birds.  There  no  more 
the  wanton  ruffle  of  the  drums,  no  more  the  ecstasy  of  warlike 
bugles  and  no  more  the  stirring  challenge  of  the  inspiring  fife; 
there  no  more  that  spot,  once  thick  with  blood,  coagulate  with 
dead,  forever  gone  the  locking  clash  of  arms,  the  shouts,  the 
grimy  wind  chasing  the  battle  flags ;  no  more  the  sundering  shock 
of  flame-ringed,  ireful  men.  Out  through  these  trees  the  con- 
quered and  the  conquerors  long  have  passed ;  mute  is  the  high 
command,  and  mute,  long  mute,  the  answering  thrill  of  cheer 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  155 

from  out  the  trickling  rill  of  bayonets ;  the  charger  is  enveloped  in 
the  dust,  and  rust  has  claimed  both  foemen's  steel  and  brass ;  long 
faded,  too,  the  deep,  imperious  tremor  of  huge  guns,  the  stutter- 
ing musket  volleys,  the  soiled  smoke  and  .all  the  rapid  rifle  ripple 
in  this  swamp. 

"In  the  fluted  throat  of  a  cannon  sweet  birds  have  builded, 
and  with  their  silken  web  of  song,  thread  ever  the  crimson  seam 
of  hates  annulled  and  reunited  arms.  Full  many  a  time  and  oft, 
falcated  moons  here  have  risen,  have  bloomed  to  passion's  prime, 
have  waned  and  slept,  have  seen  no  semblance  of  that  horrid 
scene,  when  war  roared  weltering  in  her  angered  hour — nor  is 
there  any  token  left,  naught  anywhere,  naught  save  the  fast  thin- 
ning hosts  that  proudly  mourn  in  annual  grief  and  joy,  naught  but 
these  graves,  star-scattered  on  their  grass-grown  mounds,  this 
annual  dip  of  bright  and  soft  memorial  flowers,  this  memory 
of  great  deeds — this  memory  hovering  close  and  warm, 
swallow-like,  as  when  the  storm  is  spent,  and  when  across 
the  kindling  sky  is  flung  the  jeweled  bridge  of  Peace. 
The  circling  hills  alone  bend  in  their  powdering  rims, 
let  glide  the  misty  fields  in  limpid  flow  to  gather  in  about, 
like  flocks  and  herds  that  come  faltering  and  trooping  adown  to 
sunset  streams.  The  sun  along  his  golden  balustrade  descends ;  to 
the  pale  cheek  of  night  the  day  allies  her  roseal  lips,  and  upon 
the  ear  falls  the  least  faint  flutter  of  receding  music.  Cold  Har- 
bor laughs  freshly  and  lovingly  to-day,  consecrated,  as  it  is,  to 
memorable  pangs  and  to  exalted  sacrifices,  cradling  the  storied 
tomb,  the  urn,  the  graven  monuments  and  her  dead." 


INCIDENTS  IN  CIVIL  WAR. 

THE  present  strenuous  generation,  engrossed,  as  it  is,  in 
unusual  commercial  activities,  has  but  a  feeble  conception 
of  the  magnitude  of  the  Civil  War,  relentlessly  waged  for 
four  years.  What  Would  to-day  be  thought  if  the  old  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  for  example,  against  which  the  Confederates 
launched  their  best  and  strongest  forces,  could  be  resuscitated 
and  again  formed  into  column,  as  in  1864,  when  General  Grant 
directed  it?  In  its  most  compact  marching  order  that  magni- 
ficent army  would  extend  from  Jersey  City  to  Baltimore,  a  dis- 
tance of  some  two  hundred  miles.  Have  you,  reader,  any  con- 
ception of  what  that  army  cost  in  thought — not  money — to  con- 
struct it ;  how  much  energy  and  determination ;  how  much  pru- 


156  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

•dence  and  forethought;  how  much  anticipation  of  future  wants, 
necessities  and  contingencies,  or  how  much  thought  it  would 
require  from  one  single  mind  to  guide  its  movements — where  to 
move?  when?  how?  or  what  should  be  done  if  success  attended 
the  plans  of  the  commander?  or  what  he  should  do  if  the  enemy 
made  an  uncertain  move;  or  how  he  should  recover  from  any 
adverse,  unforeseen  circumstances? 


Visitors  to  Washington,  in  these  piping  times  of  peace  and 
money-getting,  may  scarcely  believe  that  the  most  extensive 
bakery  in  the  world  was  established  in  the  extensive 
vaults  of  the  present  magnificent  capitol  in  the  early  part  of  the 
Civil  War,  from  the  ovens  of  which  60.000  loaves  of  pure  and 
wholesome  fresh  white  bread  were  turned  out  daily  and  supplied 
to  the  soldiers  encamped  in  and  about  the  national  capital.  The 
great  bakery  was  conducted  so  quietly  that  visitors  to  the  halls  of 
legislation  would  not  be  cognizant  of  the  unceasing  industry  car- 
ried on  beneath  the  great  marble  structure  if  attention  was  not 
called  to  the  fact. 


The  Army  of  the  Potomac,  under  the  easy-going  McClellan, 
who  never  had  any  disposition  to  fight  the  enemy,  owing  to  his 
underrating  the  strength  and  ability  of  his  own  force,  and  over- 
estimating the  numbers  of  the  Confederates  confronting  him, 
really  never  fulfilled  its  mission  until  General  Grant,  whose  ways 
General  Lee  did  not  understand,  left  his  ever-victorious  Western 
army  and  assumed  control  of  it.  Grant,  with  an  eye  single  to  the 
interests  of  the  country,  and  a  grim  determination  which  ever 
characterized  him,  moved  forward  on  that  line,  where,  he  said,  if 
he  had  to  fight  all  summer,  he  would  remain.  He  kept  his  word 
and  victory  crowned  his  efforts.  For  the  first  time  that  splendid 
army,  which  for  years  had  repeatedly  hurled  itself  against  Con- 
federate earthworks  only  to  be  repulsed,  had  a  competent  master. 
With  Grant  everything  was  stern  reality  and  the  business  at  hand. 


It  was  after  the  battle  of  Kinston,  N.  C,  in  December,  1862, 
and  the  occupancy  of  that  town  by  the  Ninth  New  Jersey,  which 
blazed  the  way,  when  Morrison's  Battery  ran  up  and  took  position 
to  shell  the  Confederates,  precipitately  retreating  towards  Golds- 
boro,  that  Dr.  Salter,  who  with  Surgeon  Gillette,  of  the  Ninth, 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  157 

was  very  busily  engaged  in  attending  to  the  wounded,  noticing 
the  proximity  of  the  battery  to  the  improvised  hospital,  remarked : 
"We  had  better  get  out  of  this  before  Morrison  draws  the  enemy's 
fire !."  "Guess  there  is  no  danger  here  so  long  as  the  Ninth  is  in 
front  of  us/'  responded  Surgeon  Gillette,  who  was  preparing  to 
amputate  the  leg  of  William  Brumstadder,  of  Company  G,  of 
Elizabeth  (still  living).  Bang!  Boom!  W-h-r-r-s-s-t-t !  And 
pieces  of  shell  rattled  about  the  hospital,  creating  consternation 
among  the  helpless  men  within.  One  of  the  stretcher-carriers — a 
member  of  Company  G  of  Elizabeth — who  had  just  brought  in  a 
bucket  of  water,  grabbed  his  haversack  and  started  out  of  the 
building,  saying  to  the  surgeon  in  language  more  forcible  than 
polite:  "I  am  going  to  the  rear.  You  are  a  h — 1  of  a  doctor  to 
put  the  hospital  in  front  of  a  battle !"  And  out  he  went  on  a  dead 
run. 

One  day,  as  Company  K  was  on  a  march,  an  incident  oc- 
curred that  caused  much  merriment  among  the  boys  of  that  com- 
mand. "Tom"  McCormick,  of  Elizabeth,  who  enjoyed  the  repu- 
tation of  being  one  of  the  homeliest  men  in  the  Ninth,  as  well  as 
being  one  of  the  most  daring,  having  the  ill-luck  to  stumble,  gave 
expression  to  his  injured  feelings  in  language  that  his  lieutenant 
could  find  no  authority  for  in  the  tactics.  "You  are  fined,  Mc- 
Cormick," said  the  lieutenant,  who  never  could  condone  any  in- 
fraction of  army  rules.  "Tom"  greatly  respected  his  officer,  but 
being  greatly  provoked  at  the  rebuke,  uttered  another  unparlia- 
mentary expression.  "I  shall  impose  another  fine,"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant. "All  right,  lieutenant,"  responded  McCormick,  taking  a 
wad  of  bills  from  his  pocket  and  handing  him  a  one-dollar  bill; 
"while  at  it,  I  may  as  well  take  a  dollar's  worth  of  army  rige- 
lashun!"  And  he  did. 


Who  shall  describe,  with  "thoughts  that  breathe  and  words 
that  burn,"  in  language  that  shall  compress  a  volume  into  a  sen- 
tence, a  sentence  into  a  word,  the  agony  of  mind  and  body  which 
is  the  hourly  boon  of  the  many  thousands  in  the  hospitals  during 
the  great  war  ?  Aged  men  and  tender  boys  suffered  alike.  There 
is  no  discrimination  in  battle.  One  youth,  the  very  picture  of 
manhood's  budding  beauty,  has  lost  a  leg,  and  limps  upon  a  crutch. 
Another,  with  bandaged  breast  and  brow,  remembers  the  fatal 
bravery  which  inspired  him  on  the  battle-field,  and  weeps  involun- 
tarily as  he  never  wept  before  at  the  sweet  thought  of  home  and 
mother.  The  writer,  in  passing  through  a  hospital  after  the  battle 


158  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

of  Newbern,  witnessed  a  touching  incident — one  that  drew  tears 
to  his  eyes  and  thrilled  his  form  with  a  pang.  Several  charitable 
ladies  were  passing  along  a  ward,  dispensing  ice-cream  to  the 
invalids.  At  the  farther  end  lay  a  boy,  his  face  pale,  his  eyelids 
drooping. 

"The  poor  little  fellow  is  asleep;  we  must  not  disturb  him," 
said  one  of  the  ladies. 

"No,  ma'am,  I  am  not  asleep,"  he  softly  answered. 

"My  little  fellow,"  continued  the  lady,  "are  you  fond  of  i^c 
cream  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am;  I  dearly  love  it,"  he  replied  with  a  silvery 
voice,  as  his  face  brightened  up. 

"Well,  help  yourself  to  this,"  saying  which  the  angel  visitor 
placed  a  saucer  and  spoon  on  the  little  table  at  his  bedside. 

The  lad  burst  into  tears,  and  the  ladies  became  very  much 
affected  at  his  heartrending  sobs. 

"Why  do  you  cry  ?"  asked  one  of  them. 

"Oh,  madam,  if  you  will  pull  down  the  quilt  a  little  you  will 
see." 

She  did  so,  and  found  that  he  had  no  arms. 

Poor  boy!  The  sympathy  of  silence  and  tears  was  all  that 
could  be  bestowed  upon  his  wounded  spirit.  The  remembrance  of 
sister  and  brother,  of  father  and  mother,  of  childish  frolics  and 
playmates  loved  of  yore,  was  awakened  to  soothe  the  fancy  of 
the  brave  little  sufferer,  and  to  wreath  his  young  brow  with  the 
still  tender  beauty  of  resignation  to  the  will  of  God. 

A  DUEL  TO  THE  DEATH. 

PHILADELPHIA  rejoices  in  the  citizenship  of  a  gentleman 
and  soldier  who  greatly  distinguished  himself  in  many  of 
the  battles  of  the  war  for  the  Union.    The  subject  of  this 
brief  sketch  has  his  home  at  2001  Diamond  Street,  but  h's  walk 
in  life  is  so  quiet  and  unostentatious  that  but  comparatively  few  of 
the  present  generation,  immersed  as  they  are  in  strenuous  com- 
mercialism, with  a  faint  memory  of  the  greatest  conflict  recorded 
in  history,  are  cognizant  of  the  brilliant  services  rendered  by  him 
on  numerous  occasions  during  the  long  and  bitter  struggle. 

The  writer  has  no  intention  in  this  sketch  of  rehearsing  the 
valuable  services  performed  by  Brigadier-General  James  Stewart, 
Jr.,  through  the  bloody  conflict  of  1861-1865,  but  simply  to  relate 
a  thrilling  episode  at  the  battle  of  Newbern,  N.  C,  March  14, 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  159 

1862,  when  two  New  Jerseymen,  one  attired  in  heaven's  azure 
blue,  the  other  wearing  the  gray  of  early  morning,  fought  a  duel 
to  the  death. 

General  Stewart,  a  captain  in  the  famous  Ninth  New  Jersey 
Volunteers,  at  the  age  of  eighteen  years,  had  won  a  soldier's  repu- 
tation for  brilliant  conduct  at  the  battle  and  capture  of  Roanoke 
Island  a  month  previous,  the  first  engagement  in  which  New 
Jersey  troops  participated,  and  his  men,  young  farmer  boys  from 
Warren  County,  reposing  the  utmost  confidence  in  his  leadership, 
had  the  greatest  admiration  for  his  skill  and  daring.  They  had 
seen  his  bright  blade  gleaming  at  the  fore-front  in  the  deadly 
swamp  at  Roanoke,  and  his  Spartan-like  example  at  Newbern, 
really  the  second  Union  victory  of  the  war,  incited  them  to  deeds 
of  heroism. 

After  the  Ninth — a  regiment  of  riflemen  composed  of  twelve 
hundred  superb  young  men  from  office,  workshop  and  farm — had 
swung  into  its  long  double  line  of  battle,  covering  a  space  of 
twelve  hundred  feet,  directly  fronting  elaborate  earthworks, 
mounting  five  guns,  and  defended  by  a  strong  force  of  Con- 
federates, including  Colonel  Zebulon  Vance's  26th  North  Caro- 
lina mountaineers,  a  command  that  sustained  during  the  war  a 
heavier  loss  in  killed  than  any  other  in  either  army,  Captain 
Stewart  and  his  company  (H)  found  itself  deployed  on  the 
extreme  left  of  the  Union  line,  facing  a  grim  Confederate  re- 
doubt, mounting  two  shining  field  pieces. 

Although  the  writer  has  frequently  met  General  Stewart 
during  all  these  intervening  years,  now  nearly  half  a  century,  he 
has  never  heard  his  gallant  comrade  and  commander  allude  to 
the  particular  circumstance  that  impels  this  sketch.  The  innate 
modesty  which  has  ever  characterized  General  Stewart,  as  well 
as  the  sad  reflection  of  his  encounter  in  deadly  battle  with  a 
former  friend  and  townsman,  have  been  sufficient  to  keep  his 
lips  sealed  in  regard  to  the  desperate  affray,  brought  on  through 
no  fault  of  his  own. 

Tall  and  of  commanding  mien,  his  stalwart  form  loomed 
along  his  line  as  he  passed  and  repassed  giving  directions  to  his 
men,  making  him  a  conspicuous  mark  for  the  enemy's  sharp- 
shooters, occupying  advantageous  positions  of  comparative 
safety.  His  face,  chiseled  like  that  of  Achilles,  brightened  at 
times  by  the  gallant  conduct  of  the  brave  farmer  boys  who  de- 
lighted in  following  his  lead,  was  again  overshadowed  as  he  saw 
his  boyhood  companions  dropping  at  his  feet  in  the  heat  of  battle, 
melting  away,  as  it  were,  like  mist  before  the  rising  sun. 


160  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

Captain  Stewart,  finally  finding  himself  as  especially  marked 
for  complimentary  attention  on  the  part  of  the  Confederate 
marksmen,  a  well-directed  bullet  having  passed  through  his 
high-crowned  slouch  hat,  carrying  away  one  of  the  gilt  orna- 
ments, together  with  a  lock  of  his  raven-colored  hirsute  appen- 
dage, on  which  he  greatly  prided  himself,  took  a  rifle  from  the 
death-grasp  of  one  of  the  men  lying  at  his  feet,  who  no  longer 
had  use  for  the  weapon,  and  securing  some  cartridges,  made  his 
way  to  a  spot  well  adapted  for  the  desperate  purpose  he  had  in 
view.  Using  his  field-glasses  in  surveying  the  enemy's  works, 
hoping  thereby  to  locate  the  man  who  had  ruined  his  new  $18 
hat,  the  captain  at  length  discovered  the  object  of  his  annoyance 
crouching  behind  one  of  the  field  guns,  distinctly  to  be  seen 
through  the  embrasure.  Watching  a  favorable  opportunity,  the 
intrepid  Union  officer,  after  carefully  adjusting  the  sight  on  his 
rifle,  and  taking  deliberate  aim,  let  drive  at  his  antagonist,  who, 
at  the  moment,  rifle  in  hand,  appeared  at  the  opening.  Although 
an  expert  marksman,  Captain  Stewart,  greatly  to  his  mortifica- 
tion and  disappointment,  found  his  shot  ineffective,  as  the  next 
instant  a  curl  of  white  smoke  and  the  whiz  of  a  bullet  in  close 
proximity  to  his  left  ear  fully  satisfied  him. 

Convinced  he  had  a  foeman  worthy  of  his  steel  to  deal  with, 
and  that  heroic  measures  or  a  clever  ruse  must  be  adopted  to 
circumvent  his  wily  antagonist,  Captain  Stewart,  recalling  some 
of  Davy  Crockett's  devices  in  his  warfare  with  Indians,  finally 
hit  upon  a  plan  that  he  hoped  would  prove  successful  in  putting 
hors  du  combat  the  enterprising  Confederate  who  had  bored  a 
big  hole  through  his  hat,  and  attempted  to  rob  him  of  life  and 
further  usefulness  to  his  country.  Placing  his  hat  on  the  muzzle 
of  his  loaded  rifle  he  elevated  the  weapon  a  foot  or  two  above 
where  he  was  lying  on  the  ground,  and  the  next  instant,  deceived 
by  the  decoy,  the  exultant  Confederate  blazed  away.  In  doing 
so,  he  exposed,  as  Captain  Stewart  had  supposed  he  would,  the 
upper  portion  of  his  body,  and  ere  he  could  lower  his  still  smok- 
ing rifle  or  withdraw  from  the  open  port-hole,  an  unerring  ball 
from  the  patient  Union  captain's  gun  went  crashing  through  the 
confident  Confederate's  head,  thus  effectually  closing  one  of  the 
most  interesting  incidents  of  the  battle. 

Captain  Stewart,  satisfied  with  the  result  of  the  encounter, 
and  feeling  he  had  no  more  to  apprehend  from  that  particular 
Confederate,  rejoined  his  men,  a  few  yards  away,  and  after  bid- 
ding them  closely  watch  the  two  guns  pointing  dangerously  'in 
their  direction,  gave  no  further  thought  to  the  stirring  incident 
in  which  he  had  been  one  of  the  principal  actors. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  161 

An  hour  or  so  after  this,  however,  when  Captain  Stewart,  at 
the  head  of  his  command,  charged  the  hill  occupied  by  the  enemy, 
and,  sword  in  hand,  leaped  into  the  Confederate  works,  bristling 
with  men  and  bayonets,  which  he  quickly  brushed  aside,  he  was 
surprised  to  find  that  the  man  with  whom  he  had  had  the  deadly 
encounter,  was  no  less  a  personage  than  the  commander  of  the 
battery — Captain  William  C.  Martin,  whom  he  had  long  known 
at  his  boyhood  home,  as  a  resident  of  Washington,  Warren 
County,  New  Jersey. 

Saddened  for  a  moment  at  this  recognition,  Captain  Stewart, 
animated  by  the  cheers  of  his  men,  as  well  as  by  the  loud  huzzas 
of  the  gallant  Fifty-first  Pennsylvania  Regiment,  under  the  noble 
and  intrepid  Hartranft,  which  closely  followed  the  Ninth  New 
Jersey  into  the  works  at  this  point,  reformed  his  company  and 
instantly  started  in  pursuit  of  the  hastily  retreating  foe  towards 
the  city  of  Newbern,  two  miles  away,  and  on  the  morrow  re- 
traced his  steps  to  the  blood-stained  field,  where  he  gave  decent 
sepulture  to  the  brave  but  misguided  Jerseyman,  who,  unlike  the 
Copperheads  at  home,  had  the  courage  of  his  convictions  and 
bravery  enough  to  fight  for  a  cause  he  had  been  taught  to  believe 
was  right. 

I  might  add  that  had  not  Captain  Stewart  stopped  to  view 
the  body  of  the  Confederate  he  could  readily  have  secured  a 
battle-flag  within  his  reach,  belonging  to  the  "Beaufort  Plow- 
boys,"  which  one  of  his  sergeants  found  in  the  grasp  of  the  dead 
standard-bearer — the  first  Confederate  ensign  captured  in  battle 
by  New  Jersey  troops,  and  which,  after  careful  preservation  by 
the  state  authorities,  the  Legislature,  at  my  request,  three  years 
ago,  ordered  to  be  returned  by  the  survivors  of  the  Ninth  Regi- 
ment to  the  patriotic  governor — Glenn — of  the  Old  North  State, 
which  was  accordingly  so  done  during  the  ceremonies  attending 
the  unveiling  of  the  Ninth's  monument  in  the  National  Cemetery 
at  Newbern. 

General  Stewart  was  the  last  colonel  of  the  Ninth,  and  in 
the  last  campaign  of  the  war  commanded  a  division  in  the  Twen- 
ty-third Corps,  blazing  the  way  from  Newbern  to  Goldsboro,  and 
for  distinguished  gallantry,  as  well  as  in  his  capture  of  that  city, 
was  promoted  to  brigadier-general.  He  is  the  only  New  Jersey 
officer  of  that  rank  now  surviving. 

For  some  years  General  Stewart  was  chief  of  police  of  Phila- 
delphia, and  I  am  glad  to  know  that  to-day,  with  no  shadow  of 
the  old  peril  on  his  still  handsome  face,  he  is  occupying  a  high 
position  on  an  official  board  in  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love,  and 
enjoying  the  respect  of  his  fellow-citizens. 


162  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


BRAVE  SOLDIER  WHOM  LINCOLN  KISSED. 

COLONEL  CHARLES  H.  HOUGHTON,  past  comman- 
der of  the  Department  of  New  Jersey,  G.  A.  R.,  enjoys 
the  singular  distinction  of  having,  when  a  full  grown 
man,  been  affectionately  kissed  by  President  Lincoln.       Colonel 
Houghton,  at  an  early  age,  raised  and  organized  Company  L. 
Fourteenth  New  York  Heavy  Artillery. 

When  General  Grant,  in  the  early  spring  of  1864,  started 
overland  for  Richmond,  and  went  thundering  through  the  Wil- 
derness to  besiege  the  Confederate  capital,  he  took  with  him  the 
Fourteenth  Regiment  and  other  commands  of  heavy  artillery 
that  had  had  pleasant  occupation  for  a  long  period  in  guarding 
the  fortifications  about  Washington. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  rehearse  the  valuable  services  ren- 
dered by  Captain  Houghton  and  his  command  in  the  arduous 
and  deadly  campaign,  which  lasted  all  through  1864,  only  ending 
April  9,  1865,  by  the  triumph  of  the  glorious  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac, at  Appomattox,  and  the  surrender  of  General  Lee  and  the 
immortal  remnant  of  his  gallant  Army  of  Northern  Virginia 
to  General  Grant,  but  to  recite  the  circumstances  under  which 
the  "Greatest  American"  bent  over  a  lowly  cot  in  a  field  hos- 
pital, filled  with  dead  and  dying  braves,  and  impressed  his  elo- 
quent lips  on  the  cheek  of  the  wan  and  pale-faced  and  apparently 
dying  soldier. 

For  the  great  skill  and  bravery  displayed  by  Captain  Hough- 
ton  in  a  desperate  charge  he  made  at  the  time  of  the  Mine  Ex- 
plosion, in  front  of  Petersburg,  commonly  known  as  the  "Battle 
of  the  Crater,"  he  was  assigned  by  General  Grant  to  the  com- 
mand of  Fort  Haskell,  a  very  important  and  exposed  position, 
having  under  his  charge  in  the  works  three  hundred  and  fifty 
men,  including  Captain  Werner's  Third  New  Jersey  Light  Bat- 
tery, and  other  artillery  organizations. 

It  was  by  Captain  Houghton's  heroic  defense  of  Fort  Has- 
kell, early  on  the  morning  of  March  25,  1865,  when  he  admin- 
istered a  stunning  defeat  to  General  John  B.  Gordon's  fierce 
attempt  to  break  through  General  Grant's  lines,  that  he  received 
three  ghastly  wounds,  one  of  which  was  produced  by  a  shell 
exploding  at  his  feet,  carrying  away  his  right  leg,  torn  off  above 
the  knee. 

Although  I  have  frequently  met  Colonel  Houghton  at  the 
annual  reunions  of  the  Medal  of  Honor  Legion  (of  which  we 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  163 

are  both  members),  I  have  never  heard  my  gallant  friend  allude 
to  the  particular  circumstance  that  impels  this  sketch. 

In  the  unexpected  and  terrific  onslaught  which  General 
•Gordon  made  before  daylight  that  ever  memorable  March  morn- 
ing, a  fortnight  before  Appomattox  became  a  familiar  name 
the  wide  world  over,  Captain  Houghton's  bright  blade,  gleaming 
amid  red  glare  and  early  morning  light,  and  his  Spartan-like  ex- 
ample incited  his  men  to  deeds  of  as  .great  heroism  as  were 
ever  displayed  on  fields  of  carnage.  His  tall,  lithe  and  manly 
form  loomed  everywhere  along  the  serried  Union  line,  illumined 
by  the  red  glare  of  guns,  both  great  and  small,  which  melted  the 
charging  lines  as  mist  before  the  rising  sun.  His  face,  bright- 
ened at  times  by  the  gallant  conduct  of  his  braves,  many  of 
whom  had  been  his  boyhood  companions,  and  again  over- 
shadowed with  anxiety  and  the  fearful  responsibility  resting 
upon  his  young  shoulders,  lest  Gordon's  inspired  followers 
might  yet  succeed  in  forcing  their  way  through  his  weak  line, 
thus  jeopardizing  the  safety  of  the  army,  and  again  pained  on 
seeing  his  devoted  followers  fall  by  his  side  like  leaves  in 
autumn. 

Major  William  S.  Greenough,  of  the  Eighteenth  New 
Hampshire  Volunteers,  who  was  sorely  wounded  in  front  of 
Petersburg  April  2,  1865,  and  carried  to  the  hospital  at  City 
Point,  nine  miles  in  the  rear,  recently  narrated  the  following 
intensely  interesting  story,  being  a  witness  of  the  pretty  inci- 
dent in  the  official  life  of  our  sainted  President.  After  describ- 
ing the  rude  frame  hospital  building  in  which  he  and  nearly 
one  hundred  officers  lay  bleeding  on  cots,  he  said : 

"In  the  first  of  a  long  row  of  buildings,  known  as  the  'offi- 
cers' ward,'  there  were  on  the  afternoon  of  April  2,  1865,  sixty 
officers  of  the  Ninth  Corps,  all  of  whom  had  been  wounded  in 
the  Fort  Stedman  fight  of  March  25,  or  in  the  operations  on 
the  Petersburg  lines  of  April  1  and  2.  As  one  entered  the 
"building  from  the  main  avenue,  there  lay  in  the  first  cot  of  the 
right-hand  row  a  young  officer  in  whom  all  the  other  occu- 
pants of  the  building  (who  were  not  too  much  engrossed  with 
their  own  troubles)  were  deeply  interested,  Captain  Charles  H. 
Houghton,  of  the  Fourteenth  New  York  Heavy  Artillery. 

"Captain  Houghton  had  borne  a  highly  distinguished  part 
in  the  daybreak  fight  at  Fort  Stedman,  and  later  in  the  morn- 
ing, in  the  defense  of  Fort  Haskell,  received  three  severe 
wounds.  Two  of  these  wounds  had  been  received  very  early  in 
the  action,  but  the  captain  had  resolutely  refused  to  leave  his 


164  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

command  until  Gordon's  Confederates  had  all  been  killed,  cap- 
tured or  driven  back,  Fort  Stedman  re-taken,  and  our  lines  re- 
established. His  splendid  bravery  had  been  highly  commended 
by  his  superior  officers,  and  for  it  he  was  promoted  by  the 
President  to  the  rank  of  brevet-major. 

"When  placed  in  the  next  cot  to  Major  Houghton's,  late 
in  the  afternoon  of  April  2,  I  was  familiar  with  the  story  of 
his  bravery,  as  were  most  of  the  men  of  our  division,  and  so 
long  as  life  lasts  shall  I  be  thankful  for  the  privilege  of  a  fort- 
night's study  of  his  patience,  modesty,  cheerfulness  and  heroism. 
Major  Houghton's  age  was  probably  about  22  or  23  years. 
About  six  feet  in  height  and  slender,  with  classic  features,  very 
black  hair  and  full  black  eyes,  he  was  a  noble-looking  soldier. 
He  had  suffered  amputation  of  the  right  leg  above  the  knee,  and 
in  consequence  was  extremely  pale ;  his  life,  indeed,  was  thought 
to  hang  by  a  thread,  and  the  very  first  inquiry  in  the  morning 
and  throughout  the  day  from  the  occupants  of  the  cots  was 
'How  is  Houghton?  Will  he  pull  through?' 

"It  happened  that  my  injury  necessitated  lying  on  my  left 
side,  and  so,  separated  as  our  cots  were,  by  little  more  than  an 
arm's  length,  I  was  privileged  to  watch,  to  study,  to  pity  and 
to  love  this  man.  On  the  night  of  April  6  there  came  a  seri- 
ous crisis  in  Houghton's  case,  through  a  secondary  hemorrhage 
of  an  artery  of  the  amputated  limb.  Surgeons  and  nurses 
worked  until  daylight  to  assuage  the  flowing  lifeblood.  All  in 
the  ward  were  deeply  interested,  and  there  was  many  a  sigh  of 
relief  from  his  companions  when  in  the  early  morning  word  went 
down  the  line  of  cots  that  the  artery  had  been  'taken  up,'  and 
there  was  yet  ground  for  hope. 

"About  9  o'clock  of  the  following  morning  the  door  which 
I  lay  facing  opened,  and  from  the  surgeon  in  charge  of  the 
corps  hospital,  Dr.  McDonald,  came  the  command  'Attention! 
The  President  of  the  United  States.'  To  myself,  and  prob- 
ably to  most  of  us,  this  was  unexpected,  for  we  had  not  known 
that  President  Lincoln  had  been  visiting  the  army. 

"Raising  my  eyes  to  the  doorway,  I  had  my  first  sight  of 
the  President,  and  it  was  not  an  impressive  one.  His  clothes 
were  travel-stained,  ill-fitting,  and  very  dusty;  his  hat  was 
an  immensely  exaggerated  type  of  the  'stovepipe'  variety;  his 
neckwear  was  awry,  and  his  face  showed  pressing  need  of  the 
services  of  a  barber.  In  short,  his  whole  appearance  seemed 
to  justify  the  caricaturists  of  those  days  in  their  worst  cartoons. 

"Unescorted,  except  by  the  surgeon,  the  President,  bowing 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS. 


165 


ihis  tall  form  to  enter  the  low  doorway,  stepped  in,  turned  a  step 
er  two  to  the  right,  and,  tenderly  placing  his  hand  on  Hough- 
ton's  forehead,  stood  for  an  instant  looking  into  his  face;  then, 
bending  down  to  the  low  cot,  as  mother  would  to  her  child,  he 
kissed  Houghton's  white  cheek. 

"In  voice  so  tender  and  so  low  that  only  my  near  proximity 
enabled  me  to  hear,  he  began  to  talk  to  him,  telling  him  how 
he  had  heard  from  Dr.  McDonald  all  the  story  of  his  bravery 
in  battle,  his  heroic  fight  for  life,  and  quiet  cheerfulness  in  hos- 
pital, and  of  the  sad  happening  of  the  night. 

"Poor  Hou.ghton  could  only  reply  with  faint  smiles  and 
whispers  that  were  too  low  to  reach  my  ears,  but  Mr.  Lincoln 
heard,  and  a  smile  came  to  his  grave  face.  Turning  to  the 
•surgeon,  the  President  asked  to  be  shown  the  major's  wounds, 
especially  the  amputated  limb.  Dr.  McDonald  tried  to  dissuade 
Tiim  by  saying  the  sight,  especially  after  what  had  just  taken 
place,  would  be  too  shocking.  But  the  President  insisted, 
turned  down  the  light  covering  and  took  a  hasty  look.  Straight- 
ening up  with  a  deep  groan  of  pain  and  throwing  up  both  his 
long  arms,  he  cried  out,  'Oh,  this  awful,  awful  war!'  Then 
bending  again  to  Houghton,  with  tears  cutting  wide  furrows 
down  his  dust-stained  cheeks,  and  with  great  sobs  shaking  him, 
he  exclaimed:  'Poor  boy!  Poor  boy!  You  must  live!  You 
must !'  This  time  the  major's  whispered  answer,  'I  intend  to, 
sir,'  was  just  audible.  With  a  tender  parting  handshake  and 
a  'God  bless  you,  my  boy,'  the  President  moved  to  the  next 
cot  in  line,  and  to  the  next,  and  so  on  down  the  right  and  back 
on  the  left  side  of  the  ward,  with  a  warm  handclasp  and  a  simple, 
kind,  fatherly  word  for  each  one.  Then  he  passed  out  of  the 
same  door  he  had  entered  perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes 
before. 

"But  for  us  it  was  a  different  place.  We  had  seen  there 
the  soul  of  our  great  chief." 

USES  HIS  FIST  IN  CAPTURING  FLAG. 

THIS  book  would  be  incomplete  without  a  narration  of  a  gal- 
lant action  greatly  distinguishing  Captain  Patrick  DeLacy 
of  Scranton,   Pa.,  a  sergeant  of  the  One  Hundred  and 
Forty-third  Pennsylvania  Infantry,  in  the  battles  in  the  Wilder- 
ness in  the  spring  of   1864.     Sergeant  DeLacy  had  shown  the 
stuff  of  which  he  is  made  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  where,  dur- 


166  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

ing  the  three  days'  fighting,  his  regiment  took  a  prominent  and 
active  part,  and  was  greatly  decimated  in  numbers.  The  thrill- 
ing episode  I  will  attempt  to  describe  took  place  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  second  day  of  the  desperate  and  prolonged  battle  in 
the  Wilderness,  where  Wadsworth's  Division  of  Hancock's 
Corps  won  immortal  renown  by  repelling  fierce  charges  of  Long- 
street's  Corps,  and  occupying  its  works,  which  had  been  gal- 
lantly defended  and  tenaciously  held. 

It  was  after  a  brief  respite  that  the  survivors  of  the  One 
Hundred  and  Forty-third  Regiment,  who  had  occupied  the  time 
at  their  disposal  in  cleaning  their  rifles  and  replenishing  cartridge- 
boxes  with  ammunition  taken  from  the  bodies  of  the  dead  which 
surrounded  them,  were  ordered  by  the  "Superb"  Hancock  to  ad- 
vance and  reinforce  the  depleted  Union  line  at  the  Cross-Roads, 
then  in  imminent  danger  of  being  overpowered.  The  One  Hun- 
dred and  Forty-third,  led  by  Company  A,  Sergeant  DeLacy  in 
command,  the  commissioned  officers  having  been  rendered  hors 
du  combat,  dashed  forward  on  the  double-quick  across  an  open 
space  towards  the  woods  on  the  left  of  the  plank  road,  Long- 
street's  advancing  veterans  on  the  Brock  Road  being  less  than 
one  hundred  rods  distant. 

Under  a  terribly  galling  and  destructive  fire,  a  fierce  storm 
of  iron  and  leaden  hail,  the  impulsive  and  gallant  Pennsylvanians, 
who  were  dropping  at  every  step,  pushed  on  towards  the  objec- 
tive point  under  the  inspiring  example  and  skillful  leadership  of 
Sergeant  DeLacy,  who  never  quailed  at  any  danger,  nor  sought 
refuge  in  the  red  heat  of  battle.  When  the  works  had  been 
occupied,  and  the  blue  and  gray  lines  grimly  confronted  each 
other  at  a  few  rods'  distance,  a  Confederate  color-bearer,  doubt- 
less expecting  his  comrades  would  follow  his  heroic  lead,  leaped 
over  the  works,  and  waved  his  tattered  flag  of  rebellion  in  token 
of  defiance  to  the  Unionists.  The  brave  Southron's  act,  worthy  of 
all  praise,  was  enthusiastically  cheered  by  the  Confederates,  who, 
however,  seeing  the  utter  futility  of  following  his  example,  re- 
mained behind  their  breastwork  of  heavy  logs. 

This  act  of  defi  on  the  part  of  the  bold  Confederate  standard- 
bearer  had  the  same  effect  on  Sergeant  DeLacy  that  a  red 
fabric  would  produce  if  flaunted  before  a  bovine,  and  so  highly 
enraged  the  Union  sergeant  that  he  instinctively  sprang  over 
the  earthwork  behind  which  his  command  had  taken  refuge,  and 
sprinting  along  that  narrow  valley  between  the  two  lines  of 
deadly  fire,  with  cannon  thundering  to  his  left  and  to  his  front, 
amid  a  shower  of  leaden  missiles,  ran  "into  the  jaws  of  Death, 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  167 

into  the  mouth  of  hell,"  to  punish  an  insolent  foeman,  and  wrest 
from  him  a  piece  of  woof  representing  a  cause  abhorrent  to 
every  fibre  of  his  nature. 

To  the  intense  surprise  of  thousands  of  brave  men  who 
witnessed  this  unparalleled  act  of  daring,  DeLacy  quickly 
reached  the  vaunting  and  unsuspecting  Southerner,  and  dexter- 
ously dealing  him  a  blow  with  his  right  fist  under  the  jaw  that 
would  have  reflected  credit  on  the  "champion  pugilist  of  the 
world,"  the  standard-bearer  and  his  "Bonnie  Flag"  went  down, 
and  before  the  discomfitted  Southron  regained  consciousness  or 
his  comrades  could  intervene,  DeLacy,  who  had  seized  the  price- 
less trophy,  was  speeding  on  his  return  to  his  command,  running 
the  fiery  gauntlet  in  safety,  amid  the  hearty  huzzas  of  the  Union 
troops,  to  the  infinite  surprise  and  chagrin  of  the  Confederates, 
who  were  doubtless  struck  with  admiration  at  the  successful 
performance  of  an  act  that  elicited  the  warmest  commendation 
on  the  part  of  DeLacy's  companions,  and  secured  for  him  the 
Congressional  Medal  of  Honor,  the  highest  decoration  for  mili- 
tary merit  ever  conferred  by  the  United  States  Government  to 
its  defenders. 


THE  GREAT  RAILROAD  RAID. 

FEW  people  to-day  recall  the  most  thrilling  and  dramatic  ad- 
venture of  the  Civil  War,  in  which  some  twenty  patriotic 
and  self-sacrificing  young  Ohio  soldiers  engaged  in  the 
early  part  of  1862,  when  they  penetrated  the  enemy's  country 
several  hundred  miles  to  deal  a  severe  blow  to  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy. Had  this  remarkable  enterprise,  attended  as  it  was 
by  deadly  perils,  resulted  in  success,  the  disastrous  battle  o£ 
Shiloh  (Pittsburg  Landing)  would  not  have  been  fought. 

As  it  was  never  difficult  to  obtain  fearless  volunteers  in  the 
Union  army  for  any  undertaking,  however  perilous,  General  O. 
M.  Mitchell,  commanding  the  Union  forces  near  Shelbyville, 
Tenn.,  sent  orders  to  the  colonels  of  the  three  Ohio  regiments  of 
Sill's  brigade,  to  select  a  man  from  each  company  for  "special 
and  hazardous  service."  This  done,  the  men  chosen  were  se- 
cretly provided  with  the  plain  garb  of  every-day  life,  a  large 
revolver,  plenty  of  ammunition,  and  a  liberal  supply  of  Confed- 
erate notes. 

The  men  were  then  quietly  told  to  make  their  way  to  a  com- 


168  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

mon  point  in  Shelbyville  to  meet  J.  J.  Andrews,  a  noted  Union 
scout,  under  whose  orders  they  would  act.  On  reaching  the 
rendezvous  the  volunteers  were  bidden  by  their  leader,  a  perfect 
stranger  to  the  entire  party,  to  form  squads,  travel  east  into 
the  Cumberland  mountains,  then  southerly  to  the  Tennessee 
River,  and  from  thence  to  Chattanooga,  at  that  time  a  small 
village  occupied  by  a  strong  force  of  Confederates,  where  a  train 
would  be  taken  for  Marietta,  Georgia.  Despite  manifold  dan- 
gers and  many  misgivings  on  the  part  of  the  bold  adventurers, 
the  entire  party  succeeded  in  reaching  the  railroad  station  at 
Chattanooga  on  time,  and  at  the  hour  designated  all  embarked  for 
Marietta,  arriving  there  at  midnight  and  registering  at  the  Tre- 
mont  House,  where  beds  were  occupied  for  the  last  time  in  many 
weary  and  painful  months. 

Andrews,  leader  of  the  expedition,  who  scarcely  closed  his 
eyes  during  the  night,  roused  his  followers  before  daybreak,  and 
gathering  them  in  his  room,  gave  the  following  instructions: 

"When  the  train  we  are  about  to  take  stops  at  'Big  Shanty/ 
(now  Kenesaw)  for  breakfast  keep  your  places  till  I  tell  you  to 
go.  Get  seats  near  each  other  in  the  same  car  and  say  nothing 
about  the  matter  on  the  way  up.  If  anything  unexpected  occurs 
look  to  me  for  the  word.  You  and  you  (designating  the  men) 
will  go  with  me  on  the  engine;  all  the  rest  will  go  to  the  left 
of  the  train  forward  of  where  it  is  uncoupled,  and  climb  on  the 
cars  in  the  best  places  you  can  when  the  order  is  given.  If  any- 
body interferes,  shoot  him,  but  don't  fire  until  it  is  necessary." 

Andrews,  during  the  conference,  took  the  precaution  to  keep 
his  bedroom  door  locked.  At  length,  when  the  train  came  slowly 
up  to  the  station,  the  adventurers  saw  that  three  closed  box-cars 
were  attached  immediately  behind  the  engine,  with  several  pas- 
senger cars  in  the  rear.  Andrews  and  his  men  purchased  tickets  to 
various  points  along  the  line  of  the  road  to  prevent  suspicion,  as 
it  was  quite  unusual  for  so  many  persons  to  board  a  train  at 
Marietta  at  one  time. 

It  was  a  thrilling  moment  when  the  conductor.  William  A. 
Fuller,  comparatively  a  young  man,  and  brave  and  active,  as  was 
soon  after  ascertained,  called:  "Big  Shanty!  Twenty  minutes 
for  breakfast !"  This  station  had  been  selected  for  the  seizure  of 
the  train  because  it  was  a  stopping  place  for  breakfast  and  without 
a  telegraph  office,  although  it  was  an  important  military  post, 
occupied  by  no  less  than  four  Confederate  regiments,  numbering 
one  thousand  men  each. 

The  train  had  scarcely  stopped  ere  the  hungry  engineer,  fire- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  169 

man,  conductor  and  most  of  the  passengers,  hastened  to  the  long, 
low  shed  which  gave  the  station  its  name,  on  the  side  opposite  the 
encampment,  for  breakfast.  Andrews,  accompanied  by  Engineer 
Knight,  without  turning  his  eyes  to  his  anxious  men,  rose  from 
his  seat  and  went  out  of  the  car  with  the  crowd  that  was  pouring 
out  to  get  something  to  eat.  When  they  reached  the  locomotive 
and  saw  at  a  glance  that  it  had  been  deserted,  the  two  men  re- 
traced their  steps  to  the  rear  of  the  third  box-car,  from  the 
coupling  of  which  the  engineer  deftly  and  quickly  withdrew  the 
iron  pin,  laying  it  carefully  on  the  draw-bar. 

It  was  at  this  highly-exciting  moment,  and  only  then,  that 
the  imperturbable  Andrews  mounted  the  platform  of  the  car  in 
which  his  followers  were  still  seated,  and  opening  the  door,  said 
in  his  ordinary  tones:  "Come,  boys;  it  is  now  time  to  go."  Can 
you,  reader,  imagine  the  state  of  mind  among  those  brave  and 
desperate  men  at  this  supreme  moment  of  action  ?  They  realized 
the  imminent  dangers  by  which  they  were  surrounded,  the  swiftly- 
passing  moments  seeming  like  hours.  They  knew  the  desperate 
work  they  had  set  out  to  accomplish,  for  which  they  had  per- 
formed a  long  and  fatiguing  journey  through  the  heart  of  the 
Southern  Confederacy,  the  second  act  of  which  they  were  just 
entering  upon,  and  that  but  a  few  seconds  remained  in  which  to 
accomplish  a  necessary  part  of  their  mission,  or  be  slaughtered 
on  the  spot  by  ready  soldiers.  Each  man  keenly  realized  that 
he  who  failed  to  get  within  the  car  selected  would  be  lost. 

The  instant  Andrews  saw  his  men  upon  the  ground  he 
quietly  ordered  them  to  get  into  the  hindmost  box-car,  the  door 
of  which  he  had  previously  audaciously  opened,  so  thoughtful 
was  he  of  every  necessary  movement.  His  followers  needed  no 
urging,  and  although  the  floor  of  the  car  was  breast  high,  and 
armed  Confederate  soldiers  were  doing  duty  within  a  few  paces 
of  the  train,  they  all  clambered  in  without  molestation  on  the  part 
•  of  the  soldiers,  who  watched  their  action  without  interest. 

When  Andrews  saw  the  last  man  safely  aboard  the  car, 
he  glided  swiftly  forward,  and  Engineer  Knight  seeing  him  rap- 
idlv  approaching,  sprang  on  the  engine,  cut  the  bell-rope,  and 
seizing  the  throttle-bar,  stood  leaning  forward  with  tense  muscles 
and  both  eyes  fastened  on  the  anxious  but  determined  face  of 
his  leader.  As  the  latter  bounded  upon  the  locomotive  he  gave 
a  significant  nod  to  the  waiting  engineer,  who,  quick  as  a  flash, 
opened  the  valve  that  unchained  the  steam  giant  they  had  cap- 
tured. 

But,  horror  of  horrors!       For  a  single  instant,  a  seeming 


170  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

eternity  to  Andrews,  the  engine  failed  to  move  forward,  the  engi- 
neer in  his  wild  excitement  having  too  suddenly  thrown  on  the 
full  power,  thus  causing  the  wheels  to  slip  on  the  rails  and 
swiftly  revolve.  The  engineer,  however,  speedily  overcame  the 
inertia,  and  before  the  staring  soldiers  had  time  to  raise  their 
muskets  or  raise  an  alarm,  which  they  did  not  think  it  their 
duty  to  do,  the  rapidly  revolving  wheels  "bit"  the  iron  tracks  and 
the  train  shot  forward  as  if  fired  from  a  catapult. 

The  bold  raiders,  in  an  ecstacy  of  delight  over  their  truly 
wonderful  triumph — a  moment  of  rapture  that  never  returned 
to  any  of  them — and  with  greater  confidence  than  ever  in  their 
skillful  leader,  were  at  last  on  the  most  perilous  part  of  their 
journey,  with  absolute  faith  in  the  successful  accomplishment 
of  their  self-imposed  task.  The  door  of  the  box-car,  in  which 
were  huddled  nineteen  men,  instantly  closed  when  they  took  pos- 
session, was  never  opened  when  nearing  or  passing  a  station. 

I  cannot  attempt  to  picture,  much  less  describe,  within  the 
limits  of  the  space  allowed  me,  the  course  of  the  runaway  train, 
as  it  dashed  along  upon  the  well-worn  light  iron  rails,  around 
short  curves  and  over  covered  frail  wooden  bridges  spanning 
streams,  nor  tell  of  the  quick  pursuit  and  hot  chase  by  the  con- 
ductor who  had  been  deprived  of  his  train.  Suffice  it  to  say,  the 
latter,  securing  another  train  which  came  unexpectedly  into  his 
hands,  made  immediate  pursuit,  resulting  in  the  running  down 
of  the  runaway,  after  a  most  exciting  chase  of  many  miles,  almost 
to  Chattanooga  itself. 

Rev.  William  Pittenger,  a  private  in  the  Second  Ohio  Regi- 
ment, a  member  of  the  expedition,  and  after  the  war  a  Methodist 
clergyman  stationed  for  some  years  in  South  Jersey,  in  his  book,. 
"Daring  and  Suffering,"  in  describing  the  pursuit  and  movement 
of  the  runaway  train,  wrote: 

"There  was  an  exultant  sense  of  superiority  while  moving 
along  in  the  midst  of  our  enemies  in  this  manner,  such  as  a  man 
in  a  balloon  might  feel  while  drifting  over  hostile  camps,  or  over 
the  raging  waves  of  the  ocean.  As  long  as  all  is  well  with  his 
balloon  the  man  need  not  care  what  takes  place  in  the  world 
below;  and  as  long  as  our  engine  retained  its  power,  and  the 
track  was  clear  before  us,  we  were  in  a  similar  state  of  security. 
But  a  knife-blade  thrust  in  the  silk  globe  overhead,  or  the  slight- 
est tear  in  the  delicate  fabric  will,  in  a  second,  take  away  the 
security  of  the  man  in  the  clouds.  So  the  loosening  of  a  bolt 
or  the  breaking  of  a  wheel  would  leave  us  powerless  in  the  midst 
of  our  deadly  enemies.  It  was  such  possibilities,  always  so  near,. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  171 

that  imparted  thrilling  interest  to  our  passage  through  towns  and 
fields  and  woods  in  the  heart  of  the  enemy's  country." 

While,  from  a  combination  of  unlooked-for  causes,  not  the 
least  of  which  was  a  raging  rain-storm,  insuring  the  safety  of 
bridges  which  the  raiders  intended  to  destroy  by  fire,  the  daring 
project  failed  of  consummation,  it  was  not  wholly  without  bene- 
ficial results  to  our  army  in  the  southwest,  owing  to  a  diversion 
of  the  enemy's  forces,  then  on  the  way  to  attack  Grant  at  Shiloh. 
The  raid,  too,  was  worth  a  great  deal,  if  it  only  dispelled  the 
delusion  entertained  by  many  both  north  and  south  before  the 
war,  that  "one  Southern  man  was  worth  five  'Yankees !'  "  An- 
drews' bold  and  dashing  raid  shook  this  feeling,  and  caused 
Southerners  thereafter  to  respect  the  possibilities  of  Northern 
valor. 

When  within  nine  miles  of  Chattanooga,  the  objective  point 
of  the  raiders,  the  stolen  engine,  out  of  water  and  fuel,  and 
otherwise  disabled,  with  persistent,  relentless  pursuers  close  at 
hand,  came  to  a  full  and  final  stop.  It  was  alone  in  its  glory, 
the  box-cars  having,  one  by  one,  been  detached  along  the  road, 
with  the  view  of  checking  the  progress  of  the  pursuing  train. 

The  moment  of  the  terrible  parting  had  arrived.  The  brave 
and  gallant  men  who  had  perilled  everything  to  serve  the  cause 
to  which  they  were  ardently  devoted,  and  who  had  been  in  exult- 
ing raptures  during  the  day  over  the  success  attending  their 
efforts,  had  at  last  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways.  With  many 
armed  pursuers  close  at  hand,  one  by  one  descended  to  the  step 
of  the  still  moving  locomotive,  swung  off,  and  sought  safety  in 
hurried  flight  into  the  adjoining  woods.  The  greatest  railroad 
raid  and  chase  ever  conceived  and  carried  out,  was  ended ! 

The  entire  party  was  soon  after  captured  among  the  moun- 
tains in  East  Tennessee,  and  immediately  confined  in  dungeons 
at  Knoxville  and  Chattanooga.  On  the  eighth  of  June,  Andrews, 
the  leader,  was  hung  on  Peachtree  avenue,  Atlanta  (now  a  fash- 
ionable thoroughfare),  the  heavy  chains  with  which  he  had  been 
manacled,  clanking  harshly  as  he  walked  upright  to  the 
rude  gallows.  A  vast  crowd  of  spectators  witnessed  the  execu- 
tion, a  bungling  affair,  the  cotton  rope  attached  to  his  neck 
stretching  so  much  that  after  the  drop  the  shackled  feet  rested 
upon  the  ground.  When  sufficient  earth  had  been  shoveled  away^ 
the  soul  of  the  brave  and  uncomplaining  scout  was  liberated. 

A  few  days  afterwards  occurred  on  the  same  spot,  the  exe- 
cution of  seven  gallant  Ohio  soldiers,  whose  only  crime  was 
faithful  service  to  their  country.  They  died  together,  or  rather 


172  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

would  have  done  so  had  not  the  ropes  to  which  two  of  their 
number  had  been  fastened,  broken  when  they  dropped.  While 
five  corpses  dangled  in  the  sultry  air  of  that  hot  June  day,  the 
two  heroic  men  thus  precipitated  to  the  ground,  after  recovering 
from  a  state  of  insensibility,  begged  for  water,  and  when  their 
burning  thirst  had  been  somewhat  quenched,  they  implored  for 
an  hour's  time  in  which  to  pray  and  make  peace  with  their  Crea- 
tor. The  Confederates,  not  wishing  to  prolong  the  agony  of 
the  spectacle,  at  once  procured  new  ropes,  and  after  adjusting 
the  broken  platform,  again  led  the  two  men  up  the  steps.  Once 
more  these  brave  Union  soldiers  faced  the  great  expectant  throng, 
many  of  whom,  including  Confederate  soldiers,  were  in  tears  at 
the  sad  sight,  and  in  a  few  minutes  all  was  over.  As  no  coffins 
had  been  provided,  the  moment  life  was  extinct  the  seven  bodies 
were  cut  down  and  closely  deposited  in  a  shallow  trench  previously 
excavated  nearby. 

The  other  members  of  the  unfortunate  expedition  were  con- 
fined in  various  prisons  until  late  in  the  summer  of  1863,  when 
the  United  States  obtained  their  release.  They  visited  the  White 
House  at  Washington  by  invitation  and  talked  with  President 
Lincoln  and  Secretary  Stanton,  and  to  each  was  given  a  Con- 
gressional Medal  of  Honor. 

"GUS"  HOPKINS'  BATTLE  FOR  WATER. 

FORTY-FOUR  years  may  not  be  considered  much  of  a 
span  in  the  life  of  a  Nation,  and  yet  they  are  quite  long 
enough  to  change  the  face  of  the  world.  While  the  Vet- 
eran Zouaves  of  Elizabeth  were  at  Gettysburg  last  October, 
viewing  the  historic  field  whose  precious  soil  was  reddened  by 
the  blood  of  some  members  of  the  command  in  the  long  ago — a 
field  made  glorious  by  American  valor,  a  field  haunted  by  the 
souls  of  their  departed  comrades,  hallowed  by  living  memories, 
and  made  sacred  as  the  spot  whereon  was  imperishably  written 
in  words  of  living  light  another  chapter  in  the  gospel  of  freedom 
— Augustus  Hopkins,  a  member  of  the  command,  whose  soul  still 
burns  with  patriotism  and  a  love  for  our  flag,  entertained  his 
fellow  Zouave  pilgrims  by  relating  numerous  incidents  of  the 
great  three  days'  conflict,  in  which  he  took  an  humble  though 
active  part. 

After  the  Zouaves  had  descended  Cemetery  Hill,  and  the 
automobiles  in  which  they  were  making  a  tour  of  the  field  had 
stopped  at  what  is  known  as  "Spangler's  Spring,"  which  flows 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  173- 

as  freely  to-day  as  in  those  terribly  hot  days  in  July,  1863,  when, 
the  life  of  the  Nation  was  supremely  at  stake,  and  two  hundred 
thousand  men  at  that  point  were  locked  in  deadly  embrace,  "Gus" 
sprang  from  the  vehicle,  and,  after  quenching  his  thirst  from  a 
gourd  filled  with  the  crystal  fluid,  told  the  following  story: 

"Boys,"  said  he  to  the  Zouaves,  "to  the  last  breath  of  my 
life  I  shall  never  cease  to  remember  an  adventure  I  had  at  this 
spring  at  midnight  July  2,  1863.  Our  corps — the  Twelfth — 
as  you  know,  occupied  the  extreme  right  of  our  army  during  the 
last  two  days  of  the  battle,  and  it  was  along  Rock  Creek  here, 
after  repulsing  two  fierce  attacks  of  Swell's  Corps,  that  we 
had  a  lively  and  interesting  time  with  the  'Johnnies'  in  preventing 
them  from  outflanking  our  corps,  thus  saving  our  army  from 
defeat,  if  not  capture. 

"It  was  as  hot  as  Hades,  if  that  place  is  as  warm  as  some 
men  represent  it,  in  these  woods  that  second  of  July  night.  Not 
a  breath  of  air  was  stirring — all  was  as  still  as  death.  With 
others,  I  was  suffering  intensely  for  the  want  of  water;  so  much 
so,  in  fact,  that  my  tongue  at  times  cleaved  to  the  roof  of  my 
mouth.  I  couldn't  have  expectorated  had  I  tried,  so  terrible 
and  burning  was  my  thirst,  so  parched  was  my  throat,  and  I 
determined  to  procure  water,  however  dangerous  and  difficult 
the  undertaking.  Collecting  half  a  dozen  empty  canteens  belong- 
ing to  the  dead  and  dying  about  me,  I  started  down  the  steep  hill 
toward  this  spring,  which  I  had  located  during  the  afternoon,  and 
which  I  had  since  covetously  regarded.  For  hours  it  had  been 
my  heart's  desire  to  reach  the  spring. 

"Within  the  deep  shadows  of  the  woods  surrounding  me 
everything  was  as  dark  as  Erebus,  and  the  silence  of  death 
reigned.  Not  a  star  was  visible  through  the  dense  foliage  above 
me,  as  I  cautiously  pursued  my  way,  intently  listening  for  any 
sound  that  might  betoken  the  whereabouts  of  any  wideawake 
'Johnny,'  and  I  finally  succeeding  in  reaching  the  object  of  my 
fondest  desire — this  blessed  spring  of  water — without  discovery 
or  molestation  on  the  part  of  the  exhausted  and  heavy-sleeping 
Confederates  whom  I  knew  must  be  in  close  proximity. 

"After  filling  my  canteens  and  myself  by  copious  draughts 
of  the  cool  and  refreshing  God-given  beverage  until  I  thought 
my  skin  would  explode,  remembering  very  well  what  the  Governor 
of  North  Carolina  said  to  the  Governor  of  South  Carolina  on  a 
certain  memorable  occasion,  and  well  satisfied  with  the  success 
that  had  attended  my  efforts,  I  started  on  my  return  to  our  lines, 
and  when  about  half  way  up  the  long  and  tiresome  hill,  was  sud- 


174  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

-denly  set  upon  by  a  powerfully-built  man,  who  sprang  from  behind 
a  tree,  and  seized  me  with  a  vise-like  grip  at  my  throat,  hissing, 
'You're  my  prisoner!' 

"In  the  life  and  death  struggle  which  instantly  followed,  I 
dropped  my  rifle  and  grappled  with  the  fellow,  whom  I  quickly 
threw  to  the  ground,  and  as  he  retained  his  hold  I  went  down 
with  him.  I  was  no  slouch  in  those  days  in  a  rough  and  tumble 
scratch,  and  after  a  desperate  struggle  in  which  I  nearly  squeezed 
the  life  out  of  him,  I  finally  put  him  to  sleep  by  hitting  him  on 
the  head  with  a  canteen — then  deeming  discretion  the  better  part 
of  valor,  I  took  to  my  heels  and  was  soon  among  my  friends  in 
the  Twentieth,  who  rejoiced  to  get  the  water  I  had  procured. 

"Lieutenant-Colonel  Wooster,  a  few  days  after  learning  of 
the  matter,  instead  of  court-martialing  me  for  leaving  camp  with- 
out permission,  made  me  a  sergeant.  The  next  afternoon  Pickett 
made  his  superb  charge  across  those  deadly  fields  in  the  valley 
against  our  living  wall  of  blue  on  Cemetery  Hill,  but  all  I  saw  or 
heard  of  it  were  the  comparatively  harmless  shot  and  shell  which 
came  bounding  over  the  hill  from  the  right  of  Seminary  Ridge, 
where  Longstreet's  Corps  was  posted,  and  on  tm  Fourth  we 
commenced  our  long  chase  of  Lee  to  the  left  bank  of  the  Potomac 
River,  which  General  Meade  gave  him  ample  time  to  cross  with 
what  remained  of  his  gallant  but  defeated  army." 

After  Sergeant  Hopkins  had  finished  his  interesting  story, 
the  Zouaves  refreshed  themselves  from  the  famous  and  ever- 
living  spring,  and  were  rapidly  whirled  to  their  hotel  in  the 
quaint  old  town,  reaching  the  hostelry  just  as  the  shades  of  an 
October  night  were  veiling  the  grand  old  hills  about  the  historic 
place. 

May  not  the  Zouaves,  while  bivouacing  on  the  sunlit  and 
ever-glorious  field  of  Gettysburg  last  fall,  have  seen  phantom 
charges,  with  long  lines  melding  away  even  as  the  snows  of  winter 
under  the  genial  sunshine  of  springtime — ghosts  in  blue  and  gray 
grappling  at  the  spring  and  on  the  grassy  hillsides  ? 

May  not  the  bivouac  of  the  Zouaves  have  been  attended  by 
the  spirits  of  their  former  companions  in  arms,  who  sleep  the 
sleep  that  knows  no  waking,  and  who  there  won  both  peace  and 
glory  for  themselves  and  our  blessed  land?  May  it  not  be 
possible  that  our  dead  heroes  reassemble  at  Gettysburg  and  live 
over  again  those  three  momentous  July  days,  when  they  helped 
to  decide  the  fate  of  a  continent,  and  hewed  out  through  the  red 
^soil  of  human  flesh  a  path  that  is  to  be  followed  by  all  mankind  ? 

It  seemed  so  to  the  Zouaves  last  October. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  175 


SOLDIER  SAVES  SHIP'S  CREW. 

AMONG  the  very  gallant  men  who  faithfully  and  efficiently 
served  our  country  during  the  four  years  of  the  Civil  War, 
was  Corporal  Samuel  J.  Dilks,  who  long  since  passed  from 
•earth  to  that  eternal  home  from  whence  none  in  all  the  ages  past 
and  gone  have  ever  yet  returned. 

The  corporal,  who  belonged  to  my  company,  distinguished 
himself  above  his  fellows  on  numerous  occasions,  but  more  espe- 
cially did  he  show  the  stuff  of  which  he  was  made  when  he  saved 
an  entire  ship's  crew  from  being  entombed  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean 
during  a  fierce  storm,  in  which  many  vessels  went  to  Davy  Jones' 
locker. 

Dilks,  born  in  Cape  May,  within  sight  of  the  everlasting 
waters  which  constantly  wash  the  low  pebbly  strand  near  his 
humble  habitation,  whose  peaceful  and  ever-rolling  surf  often 
lulled  him  to  sleep,  as  well  as  awakened  within  him  a  spirit  of 
unrest  and  ambition,  joined  Company  K,  Ninth  New  Jersey 
Volunteers,  in  October,  1861,  and  after  passing  unscathed  through 
more  than  one  hundred  engagements,  returned  home  at  the  close 
of  the  conflict  to  shortly  after  surrender  his  spirit  to  its  Maker, 
and  was  tenderly  laid  away  with  those  of  his  kin  who  had  gone 
before. 

Corporal  Dilks,  having  followed  a  seafaring  life  from  boy- 
hood, was  detailed  at  Fortress  Monroe  for  special  service  on  the 
steam  transport  "Pocahontas,"  one  of  the  numerous  craft  com- 
posing the  armada  which  rendezvoused  there  in  January,  1862, 
under  command  of  the  patriotic  and  noble-hearted  General  Am- 
brose E.  Burnside. 

The  "Pocahontas,"  a  worn-out  screw  propeller,  heavily  laden 
with  artillery  horses  and  military  supplies,  had  been  chartered  by 
the  Government  under  representations  of  her  loyal  and  patriotic 
(  ?)  owners,  blessed  or  cursed  with  elastic  consciences,  that  the 
vessel  came  up  to  all  the  requirements  of  the  service,  and  in 
due  time  the  rotten  old  hulk,  for  such  it  proved  to  be,  steamed 
out  of  Hampton  Roads  on  her  final  voyage,  as  my  story  will 
show. 

While  lumbering  down  the  treacherous  coast  the  "Pocahon- 
tas" was  struck  by  a  fierce  gale  of  wind  and  snow,  before  which 
it  was  driven  with  irresistible  force.  The  night  came  on  with 
Cimmerian  darkness,  rendering  it  impossible  for  those  on  board 
the  ill-fated  craft  to  see  anything  with  distinctness,  and  despite 


176  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

the  combined  efforts  of  the  brave  soldiers  and  sailors,  the  steamerr 
laboring  hard,  could  not  be  kept  head  to  the  angry  seas.  The 
increasing  winds  blew  with  hurricane  force,  and  the  white  waves 
ran  mountain  high,  oftentimes  almost  burying  the  vessel  beneath 
tons  of  water  covering  the  deck,  causing  all  to  fear  that  each 
succeeding  moment  must  be  the  last. 

At  times  the  "Pocahontas"  lay  almost  becalmed  between  over- 
towering  waves — at  one  moment  in  the  deep  trough  of  the  sea, 
at  the  next  far  up  on  the  dissolving  crest  of  a  mighty  and  treach- 
erous billow.  Competent  men  at  the  wheel,  to  which  they  were 
lashed,  labored  to  keep  the  vessel's  bow  seaward,  hoping  it  would 
be  able  to  ride  out  the  storm  in  safety.  The  hatches  had  long 
since  been  battened  down  and  everything  made  as  secure  as  possi- 
ble. The  officers,  feeling  the  terrible  responsibility  resting  upon 
them,  paced  the  slippery  deck  anxiously  discussing  the  proba- 
bility of  saving  the  ship.  The  men,  realizing  the  awful  dangers 
surrounding  them,  were  quiet  and  obedient,  acting  throughout  the 
long  and  terrible  night  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  highest  com- 
mendation. 

When  morning  at  last  broke,  the  sight  presented  to  the  view 
of  the  distressed  mariners  was  awe-inspiring.  To  their  horror 
they  beheld  the  low-ribbed  shore  but  a  short  distance  away,  and 
to  it  the  fated  craft  was  swiftly  sweeping  on  the  merciless  flood. 
The  last  hope  fled  when  a  huge,  resistless  wave  fell  like  an  ava- 
lanche upon  the  steamer's  deck,  tearing  therefrom  the  stout  oaken 
planks  as  if  they  had  been  paper.  A  flood  of  water  at  once 
found  its  way  below,  extinguishing  the  furnace  fires. 

It  was  in  this  dire  extremity,  as  a  dernier  resort,  that  the 
heavy  port  anchor  was  let  go  with  a  run,  in  obedience  to  the  orders 
of  the  brave-hearted  captain,  and  as  the  heavy  chain  passed 
through  the  hawser-hole  the  friction  was  so  great  that  a  stream 
of  fire  followed  in  its  wake.  Would  the  anchor  hold?  was  the 
anxious  query  of  every  man  on  board.  Would  it  keep  the  now 
helpless  steamer  from  the  drear  and  uninviting  shore?  These 
were  the  all-absorbing  questions  of  the  imperiled  crew. 

The  fatal  moment,  however,  was  not  long  in  coming,  as,  with 
a  frightful  thump  the  "Pocahontas"  struck  broadside  on,  immense 
seas,  quickly  succeeding  each  other,  sweeping  completely  over 
her.  Each  incoming  gigantic  wave  played  with  the  vessel  as 
with  a  toy.  raising  the  doomed  craft  to  its  summit,  then  hurling 
it  like  a  chip,  to  the  ocean's  bottom,  its  timbers  snapping  and 
cracking  with  alarming  distinctness,  apparently  ending  all  hope 
for  a  rescue. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  177 

While  the  anxiously  looked-for  day  had  come,  it  afforded  but 
little  encouragement  to  the  fatigued  and  distressed  crew,  whose 
only  instinct  was  self-preservation,  as  it  soon  became  apparent 
that  the  vessel  must  be  quickly  abandoned.  But  how  could  this 
be  done  ?  The  two  small  boats  that  had  hung  on  the  davits  when 
the  vessel  left  Fortress  Monroe,  were  found,  upon  examination, 
to  be  useless,  having  been  stove  in  by  rough  usage  of  the  waves; 
Indeed,  were  the  boats  in  proper  condition  and  successfully 
launched,  they  could  not  live  an  instant  in  the  almost  cloud- 
reaching  billows  which  constantly  engulfed  the  vessel. 

The  crew,  now  without  hope  of  reaching  shore  in  safety, 
were  suddenly  brought  to  a  realizing  sense  of  the  peril  surround- 
ing them,  when  Corporal  Dilks,  who  had  spent  the  night  below 
deck  caring  for  the  affrighted  and  suffering  horses,  appeared  in 
their  midst,  and,  taking  a  view  of  the  situation,  proposed  to  swim 
ashore  with  a  line.  Those  about  him  stood  aghast  at  the  propo- 
sition. "  'Tis  the  only  road  to  safety,"  replied  Dilks  to  the  ex- 
postulations of  his  companions.  "No  more  talk,  boys,"  he  con- 
tinued, "bring  me  a  long  light  line,  and  I'll  try  it.  I  have  been 
in  scrapes  like  this  before." 

Although  naturally  surprised  at  the  bold  proposition,  the 
sailors  and  soldiers,  from  what  they  had  seen  of  Dilks,  believed 
him  capable  of  accomplishing  almost  anything,  and  some  of  them 
were  put  to  shame  when  they  saw  this  Jersey  volunteer  soldier 
divest  himself  of  coat  and  shoes,  fasten  one  end  of  the  line  around 
his  waist,  and,  mounting  the  gunwale,  await  a  favorable  moment 
for  making  his  desperate  plunge  into  the  wild  and  cold  waters. 
Dilks,  standing  there  with  his  long  mustache  floating  in  the 
wind,  was  a  subject  for  a  painter.  "Keep  your  eyes  on  me,"  he 
said  to  his  terror-stricken  comrades,  as  he  sprang  in  among 
the  violent  and  angry  breakers,  and  almost  before  he  could  again 
be  seen  the  brave  corporal  was  standing  upon  the  misty  strand, 
exposed  to  a  pitiless  wind,  blowing  strongly  from  the  northeast, 
causing  the  hearts  of  the  crew  to  beat  more  wildly  than  before, 
as  the  hour  and  mode  of  deliverance  seemed  at  hand. 

A  larger-sized  rope  was  then  attached  to  the  end  of  the  line 
remaining  on  shipboard,  and  this  Dilks  hauled  to  the  low,  sandy 
and  storm-swept  beach.  Then,  with  a  mighty  effort,  a  hawser 
was  similarly  drawn  from  the  stranded  ship  to  the  shore,  through 
the  herculean  efforts  of  the  corporal.  This  he  was  able  to  fasten 
securely  to  an  old  spar  he  providentially  discovered  some  little 
distance  away,  and  which  he  managed  to  sink  in  the  wet  sand  by 
excavating  with  his  hands.  When  the  shore  end  had  thus  been 


178  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

secured,  the  sailors  tightened  the  hawser  on  the  vessel's  deck, 
and  one  by  one  they  deserted  the  doomed  craft  by  means  of  the 
improvised  rope  bridge,  all  reaching  terra  firma  in  safety,  al- 
though the  difficult  passage  was  far  from  being  pleasant.  Each 
man  was  subjected  to  fearful  perils,  fierce  billows  at  times  passing 
completely  over  and  momentarily  hiding  the  aerial  passengers 
from  sight.  The  utmost  caution  was  observed  in  traversing  the 
narrow  and  uncertain  structure,  which,  moved  by  the  breakers, 
vibrated  with  terrible  unsteadiness. 

Although  the  sailors  and  soldiers  had  thus  safely  reached 
the  bleak  and  barren  beach,  they  had  not  been  able,  in  their  en- 
forced and  hasty  flight,  to  save  any  of  their  effects,  and  all  they 
possessed,  as  they  stood  wet  and  shivering  from  the  icy  blasts, 
was  upon  their  persons.  The  gale  continuing  with  unabated 
violence,  the  situation  of  these  men  was  anything  but  inviting. 
Not  a  sign  of  civilization  was  anywhere  visible,  and  not  a  man 
in  the  sad-hearted  group  had  any  means  about  him  by  which  a 
fire  could  be  kindled,  a  necessity  that  was  pressing  upon  them. 

As  the  party,  suffering  intensely  from  the  cold,  was  about 
starting  from  the  scene  of  mishap  and  misery,  an  agonizing 
human  cry  was  borne  to  it  on  the  wings  of  the  howling  winds. 
The  men  closely  scan  the  shore,  but  not  a  living  object  save 
some  of  Mother  Gary's  chickens,  can  be  seen.  While  still  paus- 
ing and  wondering  what  the  sound  means,  a  wild,  agonizing  cry 
again  pierces  their  ears,  and  looking  seaward,  to  the  still  pound- 
ing vessel,  all  beheld  in  horror,  the  old  colored  female  cook, 
standing  at  the  ship's  side,  frantically  waving  a  white  apron,  and 
shrieking  with  all  the  strength  of  her  powerful  lungs.  She  had 
been  overlooked  in  the  general  flight,  the  men  having  all  they 
could  do  to  attend  to  themselves.  The  crew  saw  the  futility  of 
the  woman's  attempting  to  save  herself  by  means  of  the  rope- 
bridge,  and  felt  that  any  effort  they  would  be  able  to  make  to 
rescue  her  would  be  impotent. 

Meantime  the  ship,  rapidly  going  to  pieces,  continued  to 
dash  upon  the  angry  billows,  portions  of  it  being  swept  to  the 
shore.  At  one  moment  the  craft  would  be  on  beam  ends,  but 
would  speedily  right  itself.  Again  it  was  believed  to  have  dis- 
appeared, carrying  the  aged  cook  to  a  watery  grave,  but  upon  its 
reappearance  and  a  renewal  of  appeals  for  help.  Corporal  Dilks, 
whose  heart  had  never  quailed  with  fear,  stood  fast  in  his  tracks, 
and  declared  he  would  never  leave  the  spot  until  the  "old  gal," 
as  he  familiarly  called  her.  was  ashore  in  safety,  or  he  had 
found  his  fate  in  the  angry  seas.  The  corporal's  companions, 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  179 

water-soaked,  hungry  and  distressed,  and  anxious  to  find  a  haven 
of  comfort,  made  every  effort  to  dissuade  him  from  attempting 
a  return  to  the  foundered  vessel,  declaring  it  was  little  better 
than  self-destruction.  Even  were  he  able  to  reach  the  vessel, 
they  argued,  he  would  not  be  able  to  bear  the  woman  through 
the  waves,  owing  to  her  great  weight,  something  more  than 
200  pounds. 

But  Corporal  Dilks,  to  his  everlasting  honor  be  it  said,  paid 
no  heed  to  the  objections  interposed  by  his  comrades;  on  the 
contrary,  the  more  they  remonstrated  against  his  proposed  act, 
the  more  determined  was  his  resolve  to  do  or  die,  and  walking 
deliberately  out  into  the  cold  and  raging  surf,  he  seized  the  still 
swinging  hawser  with  his  left  hand,  then  swam  vigorously  with 
his  powerful  right.  His  movements  were  closely  watched  by 
•those  on  shore,  and  when  finally  they  saw  him  reach  the  vessel 
and  leap  agilely  over  its  side,  and  received  a  signal  from  him  as 
he  gained  the  slippery  deck,  they  acknowledged  the  greeting, 
and  responded  with  three  of  the  heartiest  cheers  ever  heard  on 
-that  inhospitable  beach. 

The  cook,  who  in  her  frenzy  had  been  calling  wildly  for 
assistance,  while  heartily  glad  to  see  Corporal  Dilks  standing  at 
her  side,  firmly  declined  to  take  advantage  of  the  instruction 
and  advice  tendered  by  the  brave  soldier,  insisting  that  the  cor- 
poral, who,  by  the  way,  was  of  spare  build,  would  be  unable  to 
carry  her  ashore,  which  he  told  her,  he  had  come  to  do.  Dilks, 
of  course,  thought  the  obdurate  woman  ungrateful  and  unap- 
preciative,  considering  the  sacrifice  he  had  made  in  her  behalf, 
and  unwilling  or  not,  he  determined,  as  he  had  incurred  personal 
risk  in  her  behalf,  that  she  should  go  ashore  with  him — one  way 
or  another. 

Procuring  a  piece  of  light  rope  unperceived  by  the  cook, 
Dilks,  watching  his  opportunity,  quickly  seized  her  in  his  iron 
grasp,  and  deftly  enveloping  her  arms,  bound  her  to  his  back, 
.and  despite  her  quite  formidable  resistance,  succeeded  in  getting 
her  to  the  ship's  battered  side,  from  which  he  plunged  into  the 
seething  waters,  and  almost  before  those  on  shore  realized  the 
act,  they  saw  the  corporal,  with  his  half-unconscious  burden, 
struggling  in  the  angry  surf,  not  many  yards  away.  With  a 
cheer,  the  crew  rushed  into  the  foaming  billows,  and  seizing  the 
almost  exhausted  but  lion-hearted  corporal,  assisted  him  to  a 
place  of  safety.  The  cook  no  sooner  found  herself  upon  terra 
firma  than  she  gave  vent  to  the  great  joy  she  felt  by  jumping 
about  on  the  sodden  and  storm-swept  beach,  in  her  rhapsody 


180  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

exclaiming,  "Glory,  glory,  Hallelujah,  praise  the  Lawd,"  to  the 
no  small  delight  of  her  gallant  preserver  and  his  smiling  com- 
panions. 

Then  commenced  a  long,  disagreeable  and  fatiguing  tramp 
down  the  inhospitable  stretch  of  sand  to  Hatteras  inlet,  where 
such  vessels  belonging  to  Burnside's  fleet  as  had  not  been  lost 
in  the  hurricane,  had  already  arrived. 


UNPARALLELED  FEAT  OF  TUNNELING. 

THE  death  recently  at  Washington  of  Colonel  Thomas  El- 
wood  Rose  of  the  Seventy-seventh  Pennsylvania  Volun- 
teers, who  greatly  distinguished  himself  in  the  Civil  War 
by  the  performance  of  an  unparalleled  feat,  brings  to  my  mind 
an  incident  that  made  him  famous  and  attracted  great  attention 
throughout  the  country  at  the  time — about  which  much  has 
since  been  said  and  written.  It  was  in  February,  1864,  shortly 
before  General  Charles  A.  Heckman  and  myself,  captured  in 
battle  at  Drewry's  Bluff,  just  below  the  Confederate  capital,  were 
committed  to  the  tender  mercies  of  "Dick"  Turner,  the  inhos- 
pitable and  surly  keeper  of  Libby  Prison,  in  Richmond,  that  the 
country  was  startled  by  the  daring  escape  from  that  closely- 
guarded  institution  of  Colonel  Rose,  projector  of  the  enterprise, 
and  more  than  one  hundred  of  his  fellow-captives. 

There  has  ever  been  a  great  fascination  in  the  escape  of  pris- 
oners, and  considerable  romantic  literature  furnished,  from  De 
Saintine's  "Piccola"  to  Baron  Trenck's  memoirs,  as  well  as  from 
Dumas's  "Monte  Christo"  to  the  story  of  Colonel  Rose,  whose 
escape  from  Libby  prison  is  considered  as  remarkable  as  any 
ever  performed. 

Colonel's  Rose's  death,  a  few  days  ago,  is  a  forcible  re- 
minder of  what  large  human  passions  are  concerned  in  the  sim- 
ple escape  from  durance  vile,  the  insatiable  love  of  freedom  and 
liberty  of  action,  the  inherent  dislike  of  mean  and  depressing 
conditions,  the  spirit  of  action  and  the  hope  of  results  which  are 
involved  to  make  men  undergo  dangers  more  terrible  than  those 
encountered  on  the  battle-field,  and  engage  in  toil  of  the  widest 
and  most  painful  nature,  that  they  may  again  breathe  the  free 
air  of  Heaven. 

Can  the  reader  imagine  the  manifold  dangers,  difficulties 
and  mountain  of  labor  that  beset  Colonel  Rose  and  his  fifteen 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  lol 

co-laborers  as  they  burrowed  night  and  day  for  more  than  two 
weeks  under  the  gloomy  and  forbidding-looking  structure,  in 
which  more  than  one  thousand  men  of  intrepid  minds  were 
so  crowded  that  they  were  compelled  to  sleep  spoon-fashion, 
head  to  head,  and  feet  to  feet?  Having  had  a  somewhat 
similar  experience  in  tunnel  operations  in  various  prison- 
pens  a  little  later  in  the  same  year,  I  can  readily  picture  Col- 
onel Rose  and  his  devoted  followers  working  with  fever-like 
haste  under  the  most  unfavorable  circumstances,  amid  foul  and 
oppressive  odors,  in  danger  of  suffocation,  with  hands  bleeding 
and  strength  exhausted. 

Beneath  the  massive  brick  and  heavily-timbered  building, 
whose  great  iron-barred  cellars  were  often  flooded  by  the  waters 
of  the  Kanawha  Canal,  ever  flowing  on  the  south  side,  Colonel 
Rose  and  his  fellow-workers  began  to  dig  for  the  liberty  they 
had  panted  during  long  and  dreary  months.  Operations  were 
commenced  in  the  easternmost  apartment  of  the  cellar,  which 
soon  became  known  as  "Rat's  hell,"  owing  to  the  multitude  of 
wharf  rodents  of  immense  size  that  had  long  held  high  revel 
and  complete  sway  therein. 

Before  engaging  in  his  perilous  undertaking,  however,  Colo- 
nel Rose,  in  an  eloquent  and  impassioned  speech,  with  his  miser- 
-able  and  dejected  fellow-sufferers  gathered  closely  about  him, 
begged  all  to  be  true  and  steadfast  in  keeping  the  faith,  as  on 
the  successful  accomplishment  of  the  scheme  secrecy  was  abso- 
lutely necessary.  He  concluded  his  stirring  appeal  by  adminis- 
tering a  solemn  obligation  to  all  to  guard  well  the  .greatest  secret 
that  could  be  imparted  to  men  in  their  condition,  whose  lives, 
I  might  add,  hung  by  a  thread.  All  solemnly  swore  to  be  faith- 
ful to  the  trust  so  generously  reposed  in  them. 

With  every  plan  thoroughly  matured,  Colonel  Rose  and  the 
fifteen  noble  fellows  he  had  selected  for  the  dangerous  and  fatigu- 
ing duty,  after  procuring  a  stout  rope  to  be  used  as  a  means  of 
descending  and  ascending  from  their  apartment  on  the  first 
floor  to  the  uninviting  cellar  below,  with  the  aid  of  an  old  and 
rusty  chisel  surreptitiously  furnished  by  an  old  darky  employed 
in  the  hospital,  knocked  a  hole  in  the  open  fire-place,  removing 
the  bricks  one  by  one  with  scrupulous  care.  When  the  work  of 
the  day  or  night  had  ended,  the  bricks  were  replaced  and  dex- 
terously covered  with  chimney  soot,  the  better  to  hide  all  trace 
of  having  been  tampered  with.  Colonel  Rose  had  rightly  guessed 
that  the  Confederates  who  made  daily  "rounds"  of  inspection 
would  never  look  at  the  breast  of  the  chimney,  in  plain  view, 


182  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

and  they  never  did,  although  they  sometimes  stopped  before  the 
fire-place  to  toast  their  feet. 

Colonel  Rose,  who  had  for  a  long  time  previously  studied 
the  prison  and  its  surroundings  from  an  iron-barred  window  in 
the  east  room  (which  I  shortly  afterwards  occupied  for  a  fort- 
night), planned  to  dig  a  tunnel  from  the  building  to  a  vacant 
wooden  shed  on  the  left  bank  of  the  canal,  which  although  but 
seventy-five  feet  distant,  yet  required  the  performance  of  her- 
culean and  distressingly  painful  labor  in  the  accomplishment  of 
the  self-imposed  task. 

Colonel  Rose,  first  to  disappear  through  the  limited  space 
in  the  chimney,  by  means  of  the  improvised  ladder  of  rope,  had 
no  sooner  landed  in  the  cellar,  veiled  in  Stygian  darkness, 
than  he  was  fiercely  assailed  by  the  army  of  ravenous  rats  of 
immense  proportions  that  had  held  undisputed  possession  of 
the  death-looking  place.  The  colonel  had  considerable  difficulty 
in  defending  himself  from  the  obstinate  attacks  of  the  rodents, 
who  sprang  upon  his  person,  frequently  tearing  flesh  from  his 
unprotected  neck  and  face,  until  those  who  followed  succeeded 
in  reaching  his  side,  and  taking  part  in  the  desperate  struggle, 
aided  him  in  driving  the  voracious  animals  away. 

It  was  almost  a  superhuman  task  to  force  a  passage  through 
the  heavy  foundation  wall  with  the  chisel,  the  only  means  for  the 
purpose  to  be  had  for  love  or  money,  but  this  task  having  at 
length  been  accomplished,  much  remained  to  be  done  if  the 
liberty  these  brave  men  passionately  sought  was1  to  be  secured. 

Fortunately,  it  was  seldom,  if  ever,  that  any  of  the  prison- 
guards  had  occasion  to  visit  or  explore  the  hidden  depths  of 
the  dark  and  hideous  cellar  in  which  the  colonel  and  his  fellows 
were  delving  to  secure  freedom  and  liberty,  hence  the  immunity 
felt  by  the  diggers.  The  mountain  of  earth,  removed  by  degrees 
in  making  this  underground  passage  to  the  outer  and  brighter 
world — to  liberty  or  death — was  scattered  among  the  filth  and 
debris  in  the  cellar. 

The  tunnel  having  at  last  been  finished,  Rose  and  his  fifteen 
close  friends,  early  in  the  evening  of  February  9,  1864,  lowered 
themselves  into  the  cellar  for  the  last  time,  and  passing  through 
the  narrow,  damp  and  airless  aperture,  emerged  from  the  cir- 
cumscribed exit  under  the  rickety  shed  on  the  canal  bank,  where, 
bidding  each  other  farewell,  the  party  separated,  each  following" 
the  bent  of  his  own  inclination,  as  had  previously  been  agreed 
upon.  When  Aurora  began  to  gild  the  following  morn  with 
bright  and  beautiful  rays  of  promise,  Colonel  Rose  was  far 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  183 

down  the  York  River  Railroad,  congratulating  himself  upon  the 
fulfillment  of  his  cherished  plans.  Barred  from  crossing  the 
Chickahominy  bridge,  at  all  times  strongly  guarded,  he  plunged 
into  adjacent  swamps,  dodged  the  enemy's  pickets,  and  after 
many  lesser  adventures,  fell  into  the  hands  of  three  Confederate 
soldiers,  wearing  blue  uniforms,  whom  he  mistook  for  friends. 
During  the  afternoon,  when  within  sight  of  Richmond,  he  man- 
aged to  .give  the  slip  to  his  captors,  but  before  the  sun  went 
down  behind  the  great  pine  woods  through  which  he  was  labori- 
ously making  his  way,  he  was  again  captured,  this  time  by  a 
squad  of  cavalry  that  came  suddenly  upon  him.  Two  hours, 
after  Colonel  Rose  was  returned  to  Libby,  where  he  remained 
in  close  confinement  until  July  8,  when  he  was  specially 
exchanged. 


DESPERATE  BATTLE  WITH  AN  OPHIDIAN. 

1DO  not  propose  to  write  anything  about  the  terrible  suffer- 
ings endured  by  my  comrades  while  confined  at  Anderson- 

ville,  as  the  story  is  too  well  known  to  require  repetition,  but 
simply  to  narrate  a  snake  story  that  had  a  fatal  termination  in 
the  foul  pen,  ending  in  a  bloody  tragedy. 

Christian  Huber,  of  Elizabeth,  was  among  the  unfortunate 
members  of  Company  G  captured  at  Drewry's  Bluff,  and  was  a 
passenger  on  the  illy-provided  train  which  conveyed  six  hundred 
unfortunates  from  Richmond  to  Georgia. 

Huber,  after  reaching  the  pen  at  Andersonville,  made  a  bur- 
row to  protect  himself  from  sunshine  and  storm,  and  congratu- 
lated himself  upon  possessing  what  he  considered  a  comfortable 
habitation.  Despite  his  constant  lack  of  food,  from  which  all  of 
his  more  than  30,000  wretched  comrades  suffered  alike,  Huber 
managed  to  keep  in  comparatively  cheerful  spirits. 

It  was  in  the  early  part  of  August  that  Huber  experienced 
great  difficulty  in  obtaining  sleep,  so  much  so  that  on  awaking, 
he  told  those  about  him  that  somebody  or  something  annoyed 
him  nightly.  The  fact  was,  Huber  really  suspected  some  of  his 
companions  with  playing  tricks  upon  him. 

It  was  just  after  daybreak  on  the  morning  of  August  5  that 
Huber  suddenly  awoke  in  great  distress  of  mind  and  body  to 
find  himself  within  the  tightly  embracing  folds  of  an  immense 
ophidian,  which  had,  without  awaking  him,  encircled  his  body, 
pinioning  one  arm,  with  painful  force — so  great,  in  fact,  that  he 


184  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

breathed  only  by  the  greatest  effort.  Hubert's  first  impulse  was 
that  some  frenzied  comrade,  driven  insane,  as  many  of  them 
were,  by  the  horrors  of  their  situation,  had  environed  his  throat 
with  strong  hands.  A  vise  could  hardly  have  been  more  effec- 
tive. Upon  opening  his  eyes  Huber  saw  the  head  of  a  large 
snake  poised  in  great  agitation  directly  over  his  face,  swaying 
to  and  fro  in  angry  mood,  making  hideous  grimaces,  its  long 
spear-shaped  tongue  working  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  and 
its  glassy,  basilisk  eyes  shining  like  orbs  of  fire. 

Huber,  instantly  realizing  his  perilous  situation,  used  his 
free  hand  in  seizing  his  snakeship  by  the  neck,  and  by  an  almost 
superhuman  effort,  succeeded  in  gaining  his  feet,  when  a  des- 
perate battle  for  the  mastery  took  place.  The  snake,  finding  it- 
self in  Hubers  vise-like  grip,  struggled  fiercely,  now  and  then 
in  its  writhings  and  painful  contortions,  putting  one  or  more 
coils  about  his  body.  The  struggle  and  Huber's  calls  for  help 
instantly  brought  nearby  comrades  to  his  assistance,  but  before 
they  could  do  anything  to  aid  him,  Huber  and  the  ophidian,  in 
their  battle  for  supremacy,  trespassed  within  the  dreaded  space 
known  as  the  "dead  line,"  whereupon  a  drowsy  sentinel  on 
guard  on  the  stockade  overlooking  that  part  of  the  pen,  with 
visions  of  an  emeute  before  his  half-opened  eyes,  lowered  his 
ever-ready  rifle,  took  quick  but  deliberate  aim,  and  fired — 
strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  bullet  severing  the  head  of  the 
serpent  and  passing  through  the  heart  of  the  prisoner,  robbed 
him  of  life.  Huber  never  again  breathed. 

The  incident  created  intense  excitement  for  a  time,  but  was 
quickly  forgotten,  the  starving  men,  apparently  deserted  by  our 
government,  having  more  important  matters  to  distract  their 
attention. 


STRANGE  WOUNDS  ON  BATTLE  FIELD. 

AMONG  the  Union  volunteers  who   distinguished  them- 
selves in  the  Civil  War  was  Edward  La  Fuley,  living  in 
Elizabeth,  with  no  shadow  of  peril  on  his  face,  however 
disfigured  it  may  have  been  by  a  remorseless  bullet  which  crashed 
through  his  jaw,  tearing  away  several  teeth  and  the  major  por- 
tion of  his  tongue. 

La  Fuley,  when  the  tocsin  of  war  sounded  that  April  morn 
in  1861,  was  a  resident  of  New  York  State.  Ardently  desiring 
to  serve  his  country  in  its  great  hour  of  need,  although  but  a 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  185 

mere  boy,  he  enlisted  in  the  Eleventh  New  York  Battery  of  Ar- 
tillery, which  soon  after  became  noted  for  its  efficiency. 

A  mere  stripling,  his  intelligence,  attention  to  duty,  faith- 
fulness and  extraordinary  efficiency  quickly  won  for  him  a  place 
in  the  esteem  of  his  officers  and  comrades,  and  he  was  selected 
as  a  gunner,  for  which  important  duty  he  soon  gave  remarkable 
evidence  of  capacity.  La  Fuley's  brazen  dog  of  war  soon  became 
a  great  pet  with  him  as  well  as  a  terror  to  the  enemy  whenever 
its  deep-toned  voice  sounded.  La  Fuley  speedily  became  an 
expert  shot,  and  on  several  occasions,  notably  at  Gettysburg,  did 
particularly  fine  and  skilful  work.  From  the  start  he  greatly 
distinguished  himself  by  superior  marksmanship,  and  when  any 
difficult  shots  were  required,  was  invariably  selected  for  the  task. 

The  Eleventh  Battery  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  three 
days'  fight  at  Gettysburg,  in  which  the  subject  of  my  sketch 
received  a  ghastly  wound  from  a  Confederate  sharpshooter  in 
the  "Devil's  Den"  that  kept  him  in  the  hospital  for  long  and 
dreary  months,  until  tired  of  the  doctors  and  medicines,  and 
still  weakened  by  his  sufferings,  he  obtained  consent  to  rejoin 
his  command,  and  made  his  weary  way  back  to  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  which  he  reached  in  time  to  engage  with  it  in  the 
disastrous  Mine  Run  affair,  where  he  received  a  singular  wound 
— one  that  came  near  ending  his  life,  and  deprived  him  of  the 
power  of  articulation  for  several  months  thereafter. 

La  Fuley,  heartily  glad  to  be  again  with  his  comrades,  and 
rejoicing  in  his  restoration  to  the  command  of  his  gun,  was  in 
the  act  of  drawing  a  fine  bead  on  a  group  of  horsemen,  one 
thousand  yards  away,  when  a  big,  rough,  leaden  bullet,  fired  by 
a  Confederate  marksman,  crashed  through  his  beardless  face, 
passing  into  one  cheek  and  out  the  other,  carrying  away  several 
teeth  and  a  large  portion  of  his  tongue. 

While  feeling  a  sharp  pain  in  his  face,  La  Fuley  experienced 
no  other  sensation,  and  did  not  fully  realize  the  extent  of  his  in- 
jury until  a  powder-begrimmed  gunner  at  his  side  called  atten- 
tion to  it,  by  pointing  to  a  stream  of  blood  pouring  down  his 
neck  upon  his  overcoat.  Opening  his  mouth  to  reply  to  his 
companion,  he  found  himself  unable  to  speak,  and  while  making 
a  laborious  attempt  to  do  so,  wondering  what  it  all  meant,  he 
emitted  a  number  of  teeth,  as  well  as  a  considerable  part  of  his 
tongue,  which  the  missile  had  severed. 

When  La  Fuley,  now  greatly  troubled  in  mind,  gazed 
upon  the  ground  at  his  feet,  and  discovered  his  loss,  he  picked 
up  the  "unruly  member"  and  carefully  guarding  it,  ran  to  a  field 


186  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

hospital  in  the  rear,  where  he  surprised  the  surgeons  by  his  sin- 
gular exhibit,  and  an  earnest  request  to  put  it  back  in  his  mouth 
where  it  rightly  belonged.  Some  of  the  surgeons  quit  the  bloody 
but  humane  task  in  which  they  were  busily  engaged,  on  learning 
La  Fuley's  remarkable  request,  and  made  an  examination  of 
the  severed  and  apparently  still  quivering  piece  of  his  tongue, 
together  with  the  part  remaining  in  his  mouth.  They  declared 
it  quite  impossible  to  perform  the  operation — to  attach  the  parts. 

Perhaps  I  should  explain  that  La  Fuley,  totally  without 
power  of  articulation,  conveyed  his  wishes  to  the  surgeons  by 
signs,  a  system  upon  which  he  had  to  rely  for  long  months  after- 
ward. For  a  time  the  doctors  were  unable  to  fathom  his  desire,, 
and  it  was  only  when  he  seized  a  needle  and  thread,  which  one 
of  the  doctors  held  in  his  fingers,  and  pretended  to  run  the  steel 
through  the  dismembered  part,  that  they  comprehended  his 
idea,  and  before  the  sun  went  down  they  had  successfully  accom- 
plished the  difficult  and  hitherto  unheard  of  task. 

La  Fuley,  in  modestly  telling  of  the  great  difficulties  the 
surgeons  had  in  splicing  the  piece  that  had  been  ruthlessly  torn 
from  his  mouth,  said  he  didn't  mind  the  operation  as  much  as 
the  inconveniences  he  afterward  suffered,  in  not  being  able  to 
speak  or  hold  conversation  with  those  beside  him. 

"You  know,"  said  he,  "that  I  am  not  much  of  a  talker  at 
any  time,  but  it  wouldn't  do  for  me  to  get  excited  in  conversa- 
tion, as  my  tongue,  while  apparently  all  right,  is  apt  to  lose  con- 
trol of  itself  arid  flop  backward,  as  if  trying  to  get  down  my 
throat,  in  which  event  I  am  speechless  until  I  can  bring  the 
uncontrollable  part  back  with  my  finger  to  its  proper  position, 
which  I  am  frequently  compelled  to  do." 

"Oh,  yes,"  continued  the  gallant  veteran,  who  still  bears 
his  sufferings  and  years  quite  well,  "after  my  tongue  healed  I 
rejoined  my  battery,  and  remained  in  the  service  until  my  term 
of  three  years  expired,  when  I  returned  home,  the  government 
refusing  to  accept  my  services  for  another  period  owing  to  my 
disabling  wounds." 


While  on  the  subject  of  remarkable  wounds  received  in 
battle  it  may  not  be  uninteresting  for  me  to  relate  that  very  few 
people  ever  learned  just  how  the  gallant  and  ever-to-be-lamented 
Philip  Kearny  received  his  death  wound  at  Chantilly.  It  was 
some  time  after  the  body  of  the  chieftain  had  been  brought  into 
our  lines,  under  a  flag  of  truce,  escorted  by  a  picked  body  of 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  187 

Confederate  cavalry,  before  our  surgeons  were  able  to  ascertain 
where  the  deadly  missile  entered  his  body,  a  thorough  and 
patient  examination  being  necessary  to  unravel  the  mystery. 

It  has  always  been  known  that  General  Kearny,  on  riding 
into  the  midst  of  a  number  of  Confederate  soldiers  on  picket, 
just  at  dusk,  and  seeing  his  imminent  danger,  suddenly  wheeled 
his  horse  and,  bending  low  over  the  faithful  animal's  neck, 
dashed  away,  followed  by  a  shower  of  bullets,  the  most  cruel  one 
entering  the  rectum,  passing  the  length  of  the  body,  leaving  but 
a  slight  abrasion  on  the  exterior,  only  distinguishable  by  the 
most  rigid  examination  of  the  part. 


Captain  Joseph  Henry,  of  the  Ninth  New  Jersey,  was  in- 
stantly killed  at  Roanoke  Island,  and  yet  no  mark  was  discovered 
upon  his  uniform  or  person.  The  cannon  ball  which  robbed  him 
of  life  and  a  promising  career  of  usefulness  had  previously 
severed  both  le,gs  of  Corporal  John  Lorence  and  one  leg  of 
Jonathan  Burel,  of  Company  K,  and  instantly  killed  Isaac  V.  D. 
Blackwell,  of  Company  F,  as  well  as  knocking  a  rifle  out  of  my 
hand  and  upsetting  me  in  the  water  in  which  we  were  righting 
at  the  moment. 


HOW   SAWYER   AND   FLYNN    ESCAPED    GALLOWS. 

WHILE  many  thousands  of  Union  soldiers   (  ?)   deserted 
their  colors  during  the  Civil  War,  and  while  several 
were  sentenced  to  be  shot  for  deserting  their  commands 
at  critical  moments,  it  remained  for  one  of  the  "bravest  of  the 
brave,"  belonging  to  the  superb  First  New  Jersey  Cavalry,  to  be 
sentenced  to  execution  on  a  rude  gallows  for  no  other  crime  than 
doing  his  whole  duty  as  a  soldier  and  being  an  earnest  and 
faithful  defender  of  his  flag. 

Among  the  most  exciting,  thrilling  and  pathetic  incidents 
in  the  great  war  was  the  case  of  Captain  Henry  Washington 
Sawyer,  of  the  First  New  Jersey  Cavalry,  a  resident  of  Cape 
May  County.  Captain  Sawyer,  grievously  wounded  in  the  terrific 
hand-to-hand  fight  on  the  beautiful  plain  at  Brandy  Station,  June 
9,  1863,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  was  removed  as  a 
prisoner  to  the  notorious  Libby  prison,  in  Richmond.  On  the 
morning  of  July  6,  a  short  month  after  his  incarceration,  and 


188  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

before  he  had  fully  recovered  from  a  desperate  wound  in  his 
head,  Captain  Sawyer  and  all  officers  of  the  same  rank  confined 
with  him,  were  suddenly  and  peremptorily  summoned  to  appear 
before  the  infamous  "Dick"  Turner,  a  Northern  renegade  who 
had  been  entrusted  with  the  keepership  of  the  prison.  With  his 
usual  self-importance  and  great  swagger,  Turner  said  he  had 
received  an  order  from  the  Confederate  war  department  to  select 
by  lot  two  captains  to  be  executed  immediately  in  retaliation 
for  the  hanging  of  two  Confederate  captains,  captured  within 
the  Union  lines  while  acting  in  the  capacity  of  spies. 

The  captains  being  formed  about  the  keeper  of  the  prison, 
a  slip  of  brown  paper  with  the  name  of  each  written  upon  it 
and  carefully  folded  was  deposited  in  a  dirty  soap  box.  This 
part  of  the  sad  ceremony  having  been  accomplished,  Turner  in- 
formed the  captains  that  as  they  might  consider  the  task  of 
drawing  the  "prizes"  a  delicate  matter,  they  might  select  whom 
they  pleased  to  make  the  drawings — the  first  two  names  taken 
from  the  box  to  decide  who  should  be  executed. 

Captain  Sawyer,  ever  cool  and  calm,  suggested,  in  obedience 
to  this  delicate  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  prisonkeeper,  that  one 
-of  the  chaplains  perform  the  task,  whereupon  three  clergymen, 
confined  on  an  upper  floor,  were  hastily  summoned.  Rev.  Mr. 
Brown,  of  the  Sixth  Maryland  (Union)  Regiment,  accepted  the 
sad  duty,  and,  amid  death-like  silence,  the  drawing  for  two  gal- 
lant human  lives  commenced.  The  first  name  withdrawn  from 
the  fateful  box  was  that  of  Captain  Sawyer — the  second,  that  of 
his  friend,  Captain  John  W.  Flynn,  of  the  Fifty-first  Indiana 
Infantry. 

The  Richmond  Despatch,  in  its  account  of  the  affair,  said: 
"When  the  names  were  read  out,  Sawyer  heard  it  with  no  ap- 
parent emotion,  remarking  that  as  someone  had  to  be  chosen,  it 
might  as  well  be  himself,  as  he  could  stand  it  as  well  as  any 
other.  Flynn  was  very  white  and  greatly  depressed." 

After  hastily  penning  an  eloquent  letter  to  his  wife,  begging 
her  to  visit  him,  and  giving  minute  directions  how  to  proceed, 
Captain  Sawyer,  accompanied  by  Flynn,  was  escorted  to  a  ver- 
min and  rat-infested  dungeon  far  under  ground,  closely  guarded. 
They  had  occupied  the  fetid  place,  however,  but  a  few  minutes 
when  "Dick"  Turner,  apparently  with  fiendish  delight,  appeared 
before  the  dungeon  door,  bearing  a  lighted  lantern,  and  harshly 
announced  to  the  two  captains  that  they  had  but  two  hours  to 
live — that  they  would  be  in  another  world  ere  the  clock  tolled 
the  hour  of  twelve. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  189 

True  enough !  They  were  shortly  after  manacled,  placed  in 
an  old  and  rickety  tobacco  cart,  to  which  was  attached  two  oxen, 
and,  strongly  guarded,  started  down  Mayo  Street,  toward  a  spot 
selected  for  the  execution  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city. 

On  the  way  the  prisoners  attracted  the  attention  of  a  Roman 
Catholic  bishop  passing  along  the  street,  who  inquired  the  nature 
of  the  sad  procession.  When  Captain  Flynn,  a  devout  Catholic, 
told  the  good  bishop  of  the  fate  awaiting  himself  and  companion 
and  declared  he  had  no  heart  to  "die  without  the  rites  of  his 
church,"  the  latter  fervently  exclaimed:  "This  will  never  do," 
and  imploring  the  Confederate  officer  in  charge  of  the  detail  to 
move  slowly,  declared  he  would  hasten  to  see  President  Davis, 
who,  he  was  sure,  would  grant  a  respite.  The  clergyman  mounted 
a  superb  horse  and  was  away  as  if  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 
Meantime  the  procession  reached  a  slight  eminence  upon  which 
was  a  single  stalwart  tree. 

With  but  ten  minutes  intervening  between  the  unhappy  prison- 
ers and  an  ignominous  death,  with  stout  hempen  cords  about 
their  necks,  and  the  cart  in  which  they  were  standing  upright 
ready  to  move  from  under  their  feet,  hurling  them  into  eternity, 
they  suddenly  beheld  coming  from  the  city,  in  which  direction 
they  had  steadily  kept  their  eyes,  a  courier  enveloped  in  clouds 
of  flying  dust,  and  a  horse  covered  with  foam.  The  priest  had 
secured  a  reprieve  for  ten  days. 

Upon  receipt  of  Captain  Sawyer's  tender  and  fateful  letter, 
Mrs.  Sawyer,  like  a  brave  and  true-hearted  wife,  hastened  to  lay 
the  momentous  matter  before  influential  friends  at  her  home,  who 
advised  her  to  lose  no  time  in  going  to  Washington,  where  they 
would  aid  her  in  appealing  to  President  Lincoln.  With  several 
prominent  men  Mrs.  Sawyer  reached  the  National  Capital  late 
the  following  day,  and  proceeding  to  the  White  House,  was 
admitted  to  an  audience  with  the  great  man  whose  big  heart 
ever  went  out  to  the  sorrowing  and  the  distressed. 

Upon  reading  Captain  Sawyer's  noble  letter,  the  President, 
deeply  affected,  with  great  tears  swimming  in  his  sympathetic 
eyes,  assured  Mrs.  Sawyer  he  would  do  all  in  his  power  to  save 
her  husband  and  his  companion,  and  concluded  the  interview  by 
bidding  her  call  on  the  morrow  to  hear  what  his  action  in  the 
premises  might  be.  She  left  the  executive  chamber  with  a  sor- 
rowing heart,  but  greatly  lightened  of  its  burden  by  the  result  of 
her  interview  with  the  great  and  good  man. 

President  Lincoln's  letter  to  Colonel  W.  H.  Ludlow,  agent 
for  the  exchange  of  prisoners,  saved  the  captain's  lives.  He 


190  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

threatened  retaliation,  naming  General  W.  H.  F.  Lee,  and  an- 
other officer  to  be  selected.    The  hanging  never  took  place. 

Captain  Sawyer,  with  whom  I  became  well  acquainted  after 
the  war,  and  with  whom  I  have  swapped  stories  of  life  in  various 
Southern  prison  pens,  lived  but  a  few  years  after  his  return  from 
the  army,  carrying  with  him  to  the  tomb  the  seeds  of  insidious 
disease  contracted  in  the  service  of  his  country,  which  he  long, 
faithfully  and  ardently  served. 


BURNING  OF  GOLDSBORO  BRIDGE. 

THE  feats  of  valor  performed  by  soldiers  whose  names  are 
unknown  to  fame  find  no  place  in  the  bulletin  that  recites 
briefly  the  triumphs  of  the  victor  or  fall  of  the  vanquished 
chieftain.  History,  which  is  mainly  a  record  of  the  achievements 
of  men  of  illustrious  birth  or  whose  positions  gave  them  rare 
opportunities  to  attain  distinction,  is  not  always  just  in  its  award. 
True,  its  pages  are  illumined  by  narratives  of  splendid  deeds 
wrought  by  individuals  that  occupied  humble  spheres,  but  com- 
paratively few  of  the  brave  acts  and  generous  words  of  noble 
souls  find  a  place,  save  in  the  memory  of  those  who  delight  to 
treasure  up  glorious  recollections.  Every  age  produces  heroes 
far  more  worthy  of  our  regard  than  the  titled  personages  whose 
-services  and  crimes  are  cited  by  the  historian.  The  War  for  the 
Union  was  fruitful  in  incidents  entitled  to  our  warmest  admira- 
tion. 

I  can  cite  many  incidents  of  unparalleled  bravery  of  enlisted 
men  during  the  contest  of  1861-1865,  but  will  content  myself  with 
narrating  a  story  of  the  burning  of  the  covered  wooden  railroad 
bridge  spanning  the  Neuse  River  at  Goldsboro,  N.  C.,  in  Decem- 
ber, 1862,  by  Privates  Elias  C.  Winans  and  William  Lemons,  of 
the  Ninth  New  Jersey,  which  elicited  admiration  from  30,000 
men  who  witnessed  the  perilous  act. 

The  expedition,  in  command  of  Major  General  John  G. 
Foster  (a  captain  of  artillery  in  Fort  Sumter  when  that  historic 
pile  was  attacked  in  April,  1861),  comprised  some  30,000  men  of 
the  three  arms  of  the  service.  This  force,  after  a  succession  of 
battles  at  Southwest  Creek,  Kinston  and  Whitehall  (where  a 
Confederate  iron-clad  gunboat  was  totally  consumed  by  fire), 
came  within  sight  of  the  Neuse  River  at  noon.  The  old  wooden 
structure  spanning  that  stream  was  defended  by  a  corps  just 
arrived  from  Lee's  army,  which  had  a  day  or  two  previously 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  191 

•defeated  General  Burnside  at  Fredericksburg,  including  an  iron- 
-clad  plaftorm  car  (monitor)  mounting  several  guns.  The  latter 
was  used  in  running  up  and  down  the  railroad. 

General  Heckman,  satisfied  that  the  bridge  could  not  be 
captured  or  crossed,  called  for  volunteers  from  the  Ninth  to 
burn  it.  So  many  offered  themselves  that  it  became  necessary 
to  make,  a  selection,  and  in  another  minute  the  colonel  supplied 
Winans  and  Lemons  with  fuses,  and  bade  them  "God  speed" 
on  their  perilous  mission.  Captain  James  Stewart,  Jr.,  subse- 
quently colonel  of  the  Ninth  and  a  brigadier  general,  was  among 
the  first  to  respond  to  the  call  for  volunteers.  I  saw  my  two 
brave  comrades  depart,  but  had  no  expectation  of  seeing  them 
return,  neither  having  apparently  one  chance  in  a  thousand 
from  immunity  from  death.  Running  hastily,  they  succeeded  in 
gaining  the  cover  of  the  railroad  bank,  along  which  they  has- 
tened in  a  stooping  attitude  toward  the  bridge,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away  on  our  front.  The  Confederates  apparently  did  not  see 
them  until  they  had  almost  reached  the  haven  of  their  desires, 
when  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  fires  of  hell  had  been  launched 
against  them.  A  railroad  monitor,  stationed  near  the  bridge 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  had  in  the  meantime  opened  a 
terrible  fire,  its  missiles  ploughing  and  tearing  up  the  ground 
•over  which  the  two  men  were  now  necessarily  slowly  wending 
their  difficult  and  dangerous  way.  The  Confederate  infantrymen 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  river  poured  volley  after  volley  at  Green 
;and  Winans,  completely  ignoring  the  presence  of  our  skirmish- 
•ers,  who  now  kept  up  an  unremitting  fire  to  divert  their  attention. 
It  appeared,  at  times,  as  if  neither  Winans  or  Lemons  would  be 
able  to  reach  the  bridge,  so  terrible  was  the  fusilade.  On,  on, 
they  ran,  amid  a  shower  of  lead  and  iron  hail,  often  being  en- 
veloped in  smoke  and  dust.  Ten  thousand  men,  foe  and  friends 
alike,  saw  the  two  brave  and  determined  men  in  their  every 
movement,  and  when,  at  last,  they  finally  succeeded  in  gaining 
the  much-coveted  bridge,  the  Union  army  sent  up  a  cheer  which 
did  more  to  madden  the  Confederates  and  rouse  our  spirits  than 
anything  I  had  ever  witnessed  in  the  army.  It  now  looked  very 
much  as  if  the  enemy  would  accomplish  the  object  for  which 
the  Union  commander  was  laboring;  i.  e.,  the  destruction  of  the 
bridge,  for  the  Confederate  batteries  completely  riddled  the 
structure,  hoping,  by  this  means,  to  deter  the  two  Yankees  from 
firing  it  "under  their  very  nose." 

When  Winans  and  Lemon  entered  the  bridge  they  became 
lost  to  our  sight,  and  when,  after  anxious  waiting,  we  failed  to 


192  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

see  any  evidence  of  their  success,  we  gave  them  up  for  lost — none 
of  us  believing  it  possible  for  either  of  them  to  escape  the  dan- 
gers which  surrounded  them.  I  shall  never  forget  my  feelings 
on  this  occasion.  Every  eye  was  intently  fixed  on  the  southern 
end  of  the  bridge.  Had  the  two  men,  heretofore  so  miracuously 
preserved,  been  killed  after  reaching  the  object  of  so  much  solici- 
tude? What  is  that?  Who  is  that  emerging  from  the  bridge? 
A  clear  glass  shows  that  Winans  is  returning,  having  failed  to 
accomplish  the  object  for  which  so  much  blood  had  been  shed. 
But  no.  He  halts,  waves  his  old  blue  cap  toward  us,  then  slides 
down  the  railroad  embankment,  crawls  through  a  fence,  enters 
the  wood  which  borders  the  river's  right  bank,  gathers  a  quantity 
of  leaves  and  dry  chips  and  slowly  but  cautiously  returns  to  the 
bridge — the  enemy  increasing  their  fire  meantime.  Placing  the 
newly  gathered  "fuel  where  it  would  do  the  most  good" — the 
fuses  having  proven  worthless — (as  he  afterward  reported)  he 
struck  a  match,  ignited  the  same,  and  the  bridge  was  on  fire.  A 
minute  afterward  a  dense  column  of  black  smoke  poured  out  of 
the  structure,  then  tongues  of  red  flame  shot  out  into  the  air 
ascending  heavenward,  and  the  work  of  two  humble  members  of 
the  Union  army  was  accomplished. 

Perhaps  I  should  add  that  by  this  time  several  companies  of 
the  Ninth  Regiment  had  been  able  to  make  their  way  to  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  bridge,  where  much  execution  was  done,  al- 
though the  command  suffered  greatly  from  the  enemy's  wither- 
ing fire.  Hastening  from  the  burning  bridge,  the  two  heroes 
speedily  rejoined  their  comrades,  being  warmly  welcomed  with 
cheers — their  heroism  being  the  theme  around  many  camp-fires 
in  after  years. 


THE  FLYING  HORSEMAN. 

A   RECENT  cloudburst  in  Kentucky,  by  which  a  small  town 
was  effaced  and  most  of  its  inhabitants  swept  into  eter- 
nity by  a  merciless  flood,  forcibly  reminds  me  of  a  some- 
what similar  occurrence  in  front  of  Petersburg  during  the  sum- 
mer of  1864,  when  a  citizen  of  Elizabeth  at  the  present  time, 
but  then  serving  his  country  in  the  army,  distinguished  himself 
by  an  act  of  great  daring,  enabling  him  to  save  hundreds  of  fel- 
low-mortals  from   watery  graves.     The  act  performed  by  my 
comrade   in   arms  on  this   occasion  should   be  perpetuated   in- 
bronze — should  be  remembered  by  all  the  generations  to  come 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  193 

as  one'  of  the  most  unselfish  and  heroic  of  the  great  war,  and 
be  an  object  lesson  to  all  who  admire  gallantry  and  intrepidity. 

It  was  on  the  afternoon  of  August  15,  1864,  that  the  Eigh- 
teenth Army  Corps,  occupying  a  long  line  of  earthworks  in  close 
proximity  to  the  enemy,  fronting  Petersburg,  with  one  flank  rest- 
ing on  the  Appomattox  River,  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  intense 
excitement,  as  well  as  terror,  by  a  cloudburst,  which  almost 
instantly  submerged  the  camps  and  poured  down  a  wide  and  deep 
ravine  in  the  rear  with  all  the  force  and  power  of  an  enraged  and 
ungovernable  river. 

It  had  been  intensely  hot  for  several  days,  causing  great 
discomfort  to  the  men,  but  there  was  nothing  at  midday  to  indi- 
cate that  there  would  be  any  change  in  the  almost  stifling  atmos- 
phere. Suddenly,  about  2  o'clock,  a  great,  black,  ominous- 
looking  cloud  appeared  directly  over  Petersburg  and  traveled 
toward  our  line,  close  to  the  earth,  with  lightning-like  speed. 
All  in  that  section  heard  its  awful  rush  and  roar.  The  accom- 
panying winds  set  up  a  mournful,  howling  shrieking  as  if  under 
the  influence  of  a  powerful  demon.  The  air  was  instantly  filled 
with  clouds  of  blinding  dust  and  flying  tents  of  canvas  torn 
away  from  meagre  fastenings.  Consternation  was  depicted  on 
the  faces  of  all,  owing  to  the  horrors  of  the  tornado. 

In  a  moment  after  it  appeared  as  if  the  gates  above  had 
been  opened,  so  great  was  the  volume  of  water  that  fell  deluging 
the  earth,  swamping  everything.  The  men  from  the  North  de- 
clared they  had  not  before  seen  anything  like  it,  and  with 
blanched  faces  all  sought  safety  in  the  open  and  on  the  highest 
ground  to  be  conveniently  reached. 

The  trenches  and  other  excavations  occupied  by  the  men 
for  safety  from  the  enemy's  missiles  were  so  quickly  inundated 
that  many  had  all  they  could  do  to  effect  their  escape,  leaving 
haversacks,  blankets,  etc.,  behind  in  their  wild  flight.  While  it 
was  dangerous  on  the  plain,  or  more  level  part  of  the  ground,, 
it  was  at  the  rear,  in  the  deep  and  wide  ravine,  where  a  number 
of  regiments  were  encamped,  that  the  most  damage  was  incurred 
by  the  Union  forces.  Regiments,  whose  shelter  tents  were 
pitched  upon  either  hillside,  had  an  exciting  time  in  saving  their 
accoutrements  from  being  washed  into  the  bottom,  down  which 
a  fearful  torrent  of  foaming  water  was  rushing  with  irresistible 
force  to  swell  the  usually  placid  Appomattox  a  mile  or  so  below. 

Sutlers  and  wagoners,  together  with  a  negro  regiment  or 
two,  occupying  the  low  land,  were  in  desperate  straits,  having- 
all  they  could  do  to  escape  the  rushing  flood  without  seeking  to> 


194  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

save  property.  In  their  wild  and  tumultuous  flight  up  the  hill- 
side they  carried  nothing  with  them,  owing  to  besetting  dangers. 
A  hundred  and  more  men,  unable  to  evade  the  flood,  were  car- 
ried away  by  the  torrent  and  drowned.  Many  of  the  bodies  were 
never  recovered.  Several  hundred  horses,  tethered  in  the  ravine, 
that  could  not  break  from  their  fastenings,  met  a  similar  fate. 

Portable  houses,  used  by  sutlers  and  various  departments 
of  the  army,  wagons,  tents,  furniture,  barrels  of  whisky  and 
meats,  boxes  of  crackers,  etc.,  went  whirling  along  in  the  resist- 
less flood.  The  new-made  river  was  two  hundred  feet  wide 
and  nine  or  ten  feet  deep. 

Charles  H.  Miller,  at  that  time  a  member  of  the  139th  New 
York  Volunteers,  but  on  detached  service  as  chief  head  clerk  of 
the  commissary  department  of  the  Third  Brigade,  Third  Divi- 
sion, 18th  Army  Corps,  had  a  remarkably  narrow  escape  from 
perishing  in  this  flood.  He  was  riding  down  the  ravine  on  a 
spirited  horse,  on  his  way  to  headquarters,  when  he  heard  alarm- 
ing cries  and  fierce  shouts,  and,  turning,  saw  soldiers  wildly 
fleeing.  His  first  impression  was  that  the  army  was  retreating, 
but  hearing  no  firing  and  seeing  no  movement  on  the  part  of 
the  enemy,  he  halted  to  investigate.  He  stopped  but  an  instant. 
however,  as  he  beheld,  perhaps  half  a  mile  away,  a  huge  wall  of 
water,  rushing  like  an  avalanche  toward  him.  The  breath  nearly 
left  his  body  when  he  realized  the  imminence  of  his  danger,  as 
well  as  that  of  hundreds  in  the  ravine  below  him.  Sinking  his 
spurs  deep  into  the  flanks  of  the  noble  animal  he  bestrode,  and 
tearing  away  like  the  wind,  he  yelled  with  all  the  strength  of  his 
lungs  as  he  went  dashing  down  that  narrow-rimmed  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  by  this  means  winning  the  admiration  of  thou- 
sands and  saving  numerous  lives.  Men,  resting  from  fatigue 
tinder  shelter  tents,  seeing  the  "flying  horseman,"  as  he  was 
called,  dashing  along  at  a  furious  speed,  with  sparks  flying  from 
the  ironclad  hoofs  of  the  horse,  peered  out  from  their  canvas 
habitations  with  frightened  faces,  as  they  heard  the  fearful  and 
alarming  cries ;  but  above  all  the  gallant  horseman's  voice 
shrilled  in  that  lowland,  as  with  spurs  dripping  red,  foam  and 
blood  blowing  from  the  horse's  nostrils,  and  hatless  and  white, 
he  cried  as  he  rode  on  his  humane  errand: 

"Fly!  fly!     Run  for  life!     Run!  run!  run!' 

And  still  on  and  on  the  apparently  wild  voice  of  my  brave 
comrade  rang  down  that  death-coursing  little  valley,  piercing 
every  tent  and  nook  with  its  awful  message,  as  on  he  dashed 
with  great  speed  along  a  headlong  course,  until  the  fiercely  pur- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  195 

suing  waters  seemed  about  to  enfold  him  and  his  faithful  charger 
and  entomb  both  in  the  vortex,  when,  finding  his  self-imposed 
task  finished,  having  nearly  reached  the  end  of  the  camp,  he 
deftly  guided  his  jaded,  panting  animal  from  impending  death 
up  the  steep  hillside  to  the  summit  of  safety. 

The  heroism  displayed  by  Mr.  Miller  was  the  theme  round 
many  a  campfire  and  bivouac. 


HOW  SCOTT  WON  FIRST  MEDAL. 

AMONG  the  multitude  of  gallant  men  who  sprang  to  arms 
in  1861,  at  the  call  of  the  nation's  Chief  Magistrate,  when 
the  starry  flag  that  had  waved  over  Sumter's  heroic  gar- 
rison was  stricken  down,  was  Julian  Scott,  a  native  of  Vermont, 
but  for  many  years  after  the  war  a  resident  of  Plainfield,  N.  J., 
who  at  the  age  of  15  years  left  school  to  join  his  country's  de- 
fenders. Enlisting  in  the  Third  Vermont  infantry  as  a  drummer, 
his  fragile  form  being  considered  too  delicate  to  bear  the  burden 
of  a  heavy  rifle  and  accompanying  accoutrements,  and  to  with- 
stand the  fatigues  incident  to  the  life  of  an  armed  soldier,  Julian 
Scott  found  himself,  with  his  regiment,  encamped  in  the  swamps 
on  the  Virginia  peninsula  early  in  the  spring  of  1862. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  April  16  that  the  afterward  famous 
Vermont  brigade — Third,  Fourth,  Fifth  and  Sixth  regiments — 
composed  of  sterling  Green  Mountain  boys,  whose  fathers  had 
fought  and  suffered  in  establishing  the  flag,  was  ordered  to  make 
an  attack  on  a  strong  fortification  masked  in  a  forest  near 
Lee's  Mills,  or  Burnt  Chimneys,  on  the  right  bank  of  Warwick 
River,  a  beautiful  and  meandering  stream  of  no  mean  width  or 
force. 

When  the  command  reached  the  bank  of  the  river,  under 
cover  of  an  effective  fire  from  one  of  our  light  batteries,  four 
companies  of  the  Third  Regiment,  to  one  of  which  young  Scott 
was  attached  as  a  musician,  promptly  dashed  into  the  flood, 
and  despite  a  desperate  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  thoroughly 
aroused  enemy,  hidden  among  trees  and  a  thick  underbrush  on 
the  opposite  side,  effected  a  crossing,  not,  however,  without  sus- 
taining considerable  loss  and  getting  a  thorough  wetting.  The 
water  was  breast  high,  and  ruined,  as  was  discovered  when  too 
late,  the  paper  cartridges  carried  in  leather  boxes. 

The  companies  which  thus  gained  the  point  aimed  at,  to 
clear  a  way  for  the  brigade  that  had  been  ordered  to  closely  fol- 


196  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

low,  but  which  for  some  unexplained  reason  failed  to  do  so, 
pluckily  and  impetuously  assailed  the  Confederate  position,  driv- 
ing the  enemy  from  the  works  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  and 
pursued  the  fleeing  Confederates  some  distance,  until  finding 
themselves  unsupported  and  with  worthless  ammunition,  owing 
to  the  soaking  it  had  undergone  during  the  crossing,  and  a  large 
force  of  the  enemy  advancing  upon  them,  the  decimated  force 
was  obliged  to  retire.  The  only  defense  it  could  make  in  this 
extremity  was  with  the  bayonet,  and  when  this  fact  was  learned 
by  the  closely  pursuing  Confederates,  they  poured  destructive 
volleys  into  the  disordered  ranks. 

Imagine  the  horror  of  the  little  Vermont  band  on  reaching 
the  ford  to  find,  instead  of  the  placid  stream  they  had  waded  an 
hour  previously,  a  mighty  and  resistless  flood  of  rushing  waters, 
into  which  it  was  foolhardy  to  enter. 

While  the  four  companies,  apparently  left  to  their  fate,  had 
accomplished  more  than  the  task  assigned  to  them,  the  Confeder- 
ates had  meantime  opened  the  floodgates  at  the  mills,  a  short 
distance  above,  thus  allowing  the  confined  waters  to  escape,  en- 
veloping the  invaders  in  a  dangerous  trap,  death  or  prison  pen 
seemingly  the  only  alternatives.  Escape  was  impossible.  A 
terrible  situation  confronted  them. 

Driven  to  absolute  desperation  by  their  inability  to  defend 
themselves  for  want  of  ammunition,  and  seeing  no  hopes  of  res- 
cue, the  gallant  Vermonters  turned  to  each  other  in  dismay. 
Not  a  ray  of  encouragement  appeared  to  cheer  the  unfortunate 
soldiers  who  thus  found  themselves  in  a  perilous  situation  from 
which  extrication  seemed  impossible.  Meanwhile,  in  the  midst 
of  the  wild  excitement,  many  of  the  men  leaped  from  the  high 
bank  into  the  foaming  and  rushing  waters,  hoping  thereby  to 
gain  safety  on  the  other  shore,  which,  however,  many  were 
destined  never  to  reach.  Others  sought  shelter  from  the  storm 
of  bullets  pouring  upon  them  under  the  bank  upon  which  they 
stood,  a  poor  protection,  as  they  subsequently  found  it.  This 
rendered  the  confusion  more  terrible. 

But  it  is  in  the  midst  of  the  most  appalling  dangers,  how- 
ever, that  the  character  of  the  American  soldier  reveals  itself, 
and  never  did  one  show  himself  greater  in  heroism  than  Drum- 
mer Julian  Scott  in  the  deplorable  misfortunes  which  beset  his 
command  on  this  fatal  day.  What  devotion  and  presence  of 
mind  in  the  midst  of  the  imminent  and  manifold  dangers  was 
manifested  by  this  intrepid  youth  as  he  boldly  and  fearlessly 
plunged  into  the  seething  flood  amid  a  shower  of  leaden  missiles 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  197 

and  struck  through  the  disturbed  current  for  the  opposite  bank, 
stopping  when  midway  to  rescue  a  wounded  comrade  who  was 
shot  through  the  neck  while  swimming  at  his  side !  This  gallant 
and  unselfish  act,  witnessed  by  those  on  either  shore,  elicited  the 
heartiest  cheers. 

Carrying  the  suffering  soldier  to  a  place  of  comparative 
safety,  Julian  Scott,  insensible  of  the  dangers  surrounding  him, 
again  made  his  way  to  the  river's  edge  and,  with  no  thought  of 
the  peril  attending  the  movement,  rescued  another  and  another 
of  his  drowning  fellows  until  those  thus  saved  by  his  efforts 
numbered  eleven. 

Then,  at  last,  faint  and  nearly  exhausted  and  suffering  in- 
tensely from  a  ghastly  wound  on  his  head,  my  friend  and  com- 
panion, against  the  remonstrances  of  those  standing  about  him, 
who  felt  he  had  already  done  enough  and  was  unfit  to  further 
jeopardize  his  life,  again  sprang  into  the  raging  torrent  to  rescue 
a  young  man  bearing  his  name,  who,  desperately  wounded,  had 
finally  relinquished  his  struggles. 

This  young  man,  not  long  before,  had  been  saved  from  an 
awful  and  ignominious  death  by  the  personal  intervention  of 
President  Lincoln.  Shortly  after  enlisting,  this  Scott,  in  no  way 
related  to  Julian,  found  asleep  on  post  in  camp,  had  been 
tried,  convicted  and  sentenced  to  death,  and  a  little  later  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  was  drawn  up  on  the  plain  near  Centerville 
to  witness  the  execution  of  the  beardless  youth.  The  last  scene 
in  that  day's  exciting  drama  was  the  hurried  approach  of  a  coach 
and  four,  escorted  by  a  small  force  of  cavalry,  enveloped  in 
clouds  of  blinding  dust,  and  the  halting  of  the  party  on  the 
ground  as  the  command  "Ready!"  given  by  the  lieutenant  in 
charge  of  the  firing  squad,  echoed  over  the  silent  field.  From 
the  dust-covered  vehicle  instantly  emerged  the  tall  form  of  Abra- 
ham Lincoln,  who  promptly  ordered  the  bandage  to  be  removed 
from  the  prisoner's  eyes,  the  thongs  which  bound  his  hands  and 
legs  to  be  severed,  and  the  young  man  to  be  liberated  and  re- 
stored to  duty.  This  scene,  especially  as  the  prisoner  rose  from 
the  rude  wooden  coffin  upon  which  he  had  been  sitting,  com- 
placently waiting  his  transfer  to  another  and  brighter  world, 
profoundly  affected  the  armed  host  collected  to  witness  it  as  an 
object  lesson.  Despite  the  efforts  of  the  officers,  the  pent-up 
feelings  of  that  mighty  throng  gave  way,  and  tumultuous  cheers 
broke  upon  the  stillness,  echoing  from  corps  to  corps,  making 
an  occasion  never  to  be  forgotten  by  the  witnesses. 

This  Scott,  thus  preserved  from  a  disgraceful   death,  has 


198  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

been  immortalized  by  Janvier  in  his  eloquent  and  pathetic  poem, 
"The  Sleeping  Sentinel,"  which  every  young,  as  well  as  old 
American,  should  read  and  study.  Terribly  wounded,  he  was 
rescued  from  a  watery  grave  by  Julian  Scott,  amid  the  plaudits 
of  the  Vermont  brigade,  and  tenderly  placed  on  the  bank  among 
his  comrades,  but  only  to  breathe  his  last  a  few  moments  after, 
not,  however,  without  blessing  the  noble  and  self-sacrificing 
drummer  boy,  whose  hand,  as  life  ebbed  away,  he  grasped  with 
gratitude,  his  final  words  being  "God  bless  the  President!"  who 
had  mercifully  preserved  him  from  a  dishonorable  death  and  his 
aged  parents  from  everlasting  dishonor. 

For  the  bravery  displayed  by  Julian  Scott  at  the  catastrophe 
on  Warwick  River  that  April  day  in  1862,  he  was  presented  by 
Congress  with  the  first  medal  of  honor  struck  in  the  Civil  War, 
a  distinction  he  richly  merited. 

After  life's  fitful  fever,  Julian  Scott  sleeps  tranquilly.  The 
turf  in  the  beautiful  cemetery  at  Plainfield  glimmers  with  a  lovely 
emerald  and  its  violets  hold  amid  their  bloom  a  holy  incense  in 
the  mound  covering  his  mortality.  A  more  abiding  honor  than 
that  of  storied  urn  consecrates  it. 


EXCITING  INCIDENT  AT  GETTYSBURG. 

THE  recent  nauseating  pose  of  a  so-called  "society  woman" 
— one  of  New  York's  "smart  set" — at  an  entertainment, 
with  a  hideous  snake  encircled  about  her  body,  neck  and 
arms,  sending  cold  chills  along  the  spinal  cords  of  the  spectators, 
recalls  to  my  mind  a  thrilling  adventure  Sergeant  William 
Eckerson,  for  many  years  the  efficient  overseer  of  the  poor  in 
this  city,  had  on  the  second  night  of  the  battle  of  Gettysburg 
with  a  deadly  ophidian  of  the  largest  size  on  its  native  heath. 

Sergeant  Eckerson,  than  whom  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  to 
which  he  belonged  for  nearly  four  years,  never  had  a  braver 
representative,  was  a  member  of  the  Fourth  Excelsior  (73d  New 
York)  Regiment.  Although  but  a  mere  lad,  a  delicate  stripling, 
he  enlisted  in  that  command  and  participated  with  it  in  all  the 
battles  in  which  it  engaged. 

I  shall  not  here  tell  of  the  forced  and  fatiguing  march, 
through  clouds  of  stifling  dust,  his  command  made  from  Taney- 
town,  in  Maryland,  all  that  terribly  hot  first  day  of  July,  1863, 
and  far  into  the  sultry  night,  only  halting  as  it  rushed  into  the 
front  line  of  the  almost  exhausted  and  disheartened  Unionists  on 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  199 

the  left  of  Cemetery  Hill,  to  confront  Longstreet's  magnificent 
veterans,  old-time  antagonists  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Vir- 
ginia, but  merely  relate  an  extraordinary  incident  that  has  ever 
been  considered  of  thrilling  interest  to  those  familiar  with  the 
strange  circumstance. 

It  was  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  that  the  five  regi- 
ments of  the  Excelsior  Brigade  lost  778  officers  and  men  in 
killed  and  wounded,  nearly  one-half  it  numbered  on  reaching 
the  field.  As  the  shades  of  night  were  falling,  when  it  was  hoped 
there  would  be  a  cessation  of  the  bloody  work  in  which  200,000 
of  the  bravest  men  on  earth  had  been  remorselessly  engaged 
throughout  the  previous  forty-eight  hours,  Longstreet  made  a 
desperate  charge  to  gain  possession  of  the  hill  firmly  held  by  our 
thin  line  of  blue,  and  succeeded  in  forcing  it  back  some  distance, 
capturing  three  field  pieces,  which  had  greatly  annoyed  the  Con- 
federates. This  so  enraged  Colonel  Brewster,  commanding  the 
brigade,  that  he  called  for  volunteers  to  advance  and  retake  the 
trophies.  Sergeant  Eckerson  was  one  of  these  volunteers.  The 
guns  were  quickly  recaptured,  and  with  them  the  tattered  colors 
and  a  major  and  some  fifty  men  of  the  Eighth  Florida  Regiment. 
In  the  fierce  hand-to-hand  struggle  which  my  comrade  had  in 
attempting  to  wrest  the  Florida  flag  from  its  plucky  bearer,  he 
was  knocked  down  with  the  butt-end  of  a  rifle,  shot  in  two  places 
in  the  lower  part  of  his  body,  and  left  for  dead  beside  one  of  the 
big  boulders  deposited  on  the  ridge  in  the  long  ago  by  glaciers 
which  came  down  from  the  frozen  north,  only  to  find  lodgment 
and  disintegration  in  that  sunny  vale,  familiarly  known  as  the 
"Devil's  Den." 

Helpless  and  racked  by  incessant  and  excruciating  pains, 
weakened  by  the  loss  of  blood  from  ghastly  wounds,  half- 
famished  and  nearly  crazed  for  the  want  of  water,  nothing  could 
equal  the  anguish  that  absorbed  the  distressed  mind  of  my  com- 
rade as  he  lay  prostrate  upon  his  back  on  the  hard  and  stony 
ground  all  through  that  seemingly  interminable  night,  with 
nerves  paralyzed,  unable  to  move  hand  or  foot,  listening,  as  he 
was  compelled  to  do,  to  the  dreadful  groans  and  agonizing  cries 
of  the  wounded  surrounding  him.  Overpowered  with  intense 
pains,  as  well  as  a  sense  of  terror,  he  flattered  himself  that  sleep, 
if  it  could  be  obtained,  would  release  him  from  the  frightful 
recollections  which  crowded  upon  him,  and  all  the  horrors  of 
the  day  again  passed  in  review  before  his  disordered  mind.  His 
wearied  senses  at  last  sank  into  repose,  but  often  in  the  stillness 
of  the  night  he  was  ruthlessly  startled  by  the  report  of  cannon, 


200  HISTORICAL   SKETCHES   OF  THE 

which,  passing  across  the  fields  and  over  the  multitudinous  hills, 
sounded  in  a  peculiarly  mournful  and  horrible  manner.  These 
unexpected  sounds,  repeated  by  the  echoes  of  the  valley,  which 
till  then  had  only  resounded  with  the  husbandman's  call  and  the 
warbling  of  birds,  were  lengthened  into  dismal  reverberations, 
and  often  when  his  harassed  nerves  were  sinking  into  calm  and 
refreshing  repose,  so  sorely  needed  by  him,  he  was  roused,  fear- 
ful that  the  bewildered  line  of  gray,  but  a  few  rods  away,  was 
again  about  to  advance  against  the  shattered  line  of  blue. 

It  was  only  when  the  burning  rays  of  that  July  sun  were 
disseminated  over  and  among  the  grand  old  hills  on  the  morn- 
ing of  that  eventful  day  in  which  Pickett's  immortals  made  a  des- 
perate but  vain  attempt  to  break  through  three  Union  lines  of 
battle,  that  Sergeant  Eckerson,  greatly  weakened  by  the  ebbing 
of  his  life's  blood,  which  all  through  the  long  night  had  poured 
from  awful  wounds,  chilled  to  the  very  marrow  by  exposure  to 
the  night  air,  with  no  covering  save  the  blue  canopy  above,  and 
who  had  foully  dreamed  of  never  again  seeing  the  light  of 
another  day,  resuscitated  by  the  pitiless  heat,  opened  his  weary 
eyes,  only  to  be  stricken  almost  senseless  with  horror,  on  behold- 
ing coiled  upon  his  breast  (much  less  capacious  than  at  a  later 
period  of  his  life,  when  it  measured  something  less  than  one 
hundred  inches),  a  rattlesnake  of  the  largest  and  most  formid- 
able species,  whose  hideous  and  fearful  head,  with  open,  gaping 
mouth,  exposing  threatening  fangs,  from  which  darted,  with 
lightning  rapidity,  a  long,  forked  tongue,  emitting  a  vile,  sicken- 
ing odor,  and  two  basilisk  eyes,  which  he  momentarily  thought 
were  a  reflection  from  his  own  eye-balls,  gleaming  terribly  before 
him.  As  he  thus  lay  prostrate  and  helpless,  he  feared  the  pulsa- 
tions of  his  heart,  to  him  sounding  like  trip-hammers,  produced 
by  the  rapid  coursing  of  his  blood,  would  incite  the  reptile  to 
deliver  the  fatal  blow,  which  he  knew  it  was  ever  ready  to  do.  A 
spring  of  cold  sweat  trickled  down  his  face  and  covered  his  body. 
Profound  horror  and  the  fantasies  of  his  awakening,  combined 
with  the  peculiar  situation  in  which  he  found  himself,  froze  his 
heart,  turning  it  into  marble.  He  did  not  dare  permit  himself  to 
make  the  slightest  movement  of  hand  or  body.  He  dreamed  of 
home,  and  the  minutest  incidents  of  his  life  passed  in  instantane- 
ous review  before  his  agonized  mind.  Frightful  despair  over- 
whelmed his  very  soul,  and  all  courage  fled. 

In  this  supreme  moment  of  intense  and  bitter  agony,  the 
imperilled  soldier  instinctively  closed  his  eyes,  utterly  abandon- 
ing all  hope  of  rescue,  and  mentally  appealed  to  his  Creator,  to 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  201 

whom  alone,  like  all  those  in  awful  peril,  he  besought  preserva- 
tion. Who  can  picture  his  despair  at  this  horrible  dis- 
covery ?  Who  can  tell  of  his  sense  of  feeling,  in  thus  finding  him- 
self in  the  coils  of  a  monster  ophidian,  whom  the  slightest  move- 
ment on  his  part  would  incite  to  fatal  action?  How  long  my 
comrade  thus  lay  I  may  not  tell.  However  disposed  or  able,  he 
abstained  from  making  the  slightest  movement,  fully  aware  of 
danger  in  exciting  the  reptile.  His  weakened  condition  no  way 
qualified  him  for  any  kind  of  a  contest  with  the  monster,  which 
could  not  fail  to  be  unequal  and  fatal  to  him  in  its  termination. 

In  those  moments  of  awful  agony,  during  which  he  lived  a 
thousand  years,  Sergeant  Eckerson,  to  whom  all  hope  for  rescue 
seemed  gone,  and  whose  nerves  were  strung  to  the  utmost  ten- 
sion, was  startled  by  the  discharge  of  a  rifle,  a  few  feet  away,  and 
the  sudden  and  altogether  unlooked-for  appearance  of  a  sol- 
dier, who,  happening  along  in  that  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
•death,  fortunately  saw  the  snake  coiled  upon  what  he  supposed  to 
be  the  body  of  a  dead  soldier.  This  inference  was  perfectly 
natural  under  the  circumstances. 

The  shot  that  thus  preserved  the  life  of  Sergeant  Eckerson 
for  further  usefulness  to  his  country  had  been  unerring — the  big 
Minnie  bullet  had  completely  severed  the  head  of  the  reptile. 
While  the  soldier,  thus  providentially  sent  to  save  the  life  of  my 
comrade,  was  admiring  and  removing  the  still  wriggling  snake 
from  the  prostrate  form  of  the  sergeant,  to  whom  he  had  given 
no  heed,  believing  him  to  be  dead,  he  was  greatly  surprised  to 
hear  him  speak.  Kneeling  beside  the  sergeant,  whose  weak 
voice  sounded  as  if  from  a  tomb,  the  new-comer  speedily  satis- 
fied himself  that  life  was  not  extinct,  and  calling  some  soldiers 
who  were  in  the  vicinity  gathering  the  dead  and  wounded,  my 
comrade  was  placed  on  a  stretcher,  and  tenderly  carried  to  a  field 
hospital,  from  which,  after  his  wounds  had  been  dressed,  he  was 
with  others  conveyed  in  an  improvised  ambulance,  a  farmer's 
wagon,  to  the  general  hospital  at  Baltimore,  where  he  hovered 
between  life  and  death  for  many  long  months,  and  at  length 
recovering,  was  offered  his  discharge  from  the  service,  but  with 
a  grim  determination  to  remain  until  the  last  shot  was  fired,  he 
refused  to  return  home,  and  was  attached  to  the  Veteran  Reserve 
Corps,  in  which  he  did  duty  till  late  in  1865. 


202  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


RETRIBUTIVE  JUSTICE  AT  ANDERSONVILLE. 

COMPARATIVELY  few  veterans  of  the  Civil  War  who 
were  interested  witnesses  of  the  strangest  moral,  if  'not 
strictly  legal  execution  of  six  of  the  foulest  and  vilest 
men  confined  within  the  circumscribed  limits  of  that  "hell"  in 
Georgia,  known  since  1864  as  Confederate  "Camp  Sumter,"  at 
Andersonville,  concerning  which,  while  much  has  been  said  by 
the  unfortunate  occupants  of  that  fetid  pen,  but  little  has  ever 
found  its  way  into  print,  are  living  to-day. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  for  an  instant  that  all  who  wore  the 
blue  during  the  Civil  War  were  either  brave,  noble  or  honest,  or 
that  all  those  captured  in  battle  and  otherwise,  many  purposely, 
possessed  chivalric  spirit,  or  were  guided  by  that  sympathy 
which  the  common  bonds  of  distress  and  misery  would  naturally 
excite  under  such  untoward  circumstances.  On  the  contrary, 
the  pen  at  Andersonville,  during  June,  1864,  when  more  than 
30,000  human  beings,  Union  prisoners  of  war,  were  huddled 
together  within  the  enclosure  like  swine,  contained  many  des- 
perate characters — no  less  than  a  horde  of  robbers  and  mur- 
derers, perfectly  indifferent  to  any  code  of  morals  or  chivalry, 
who  delighted  nightly  under  the  cover  of  darkness,  in  the  fullest 
enjoyment  of  plundering  and  cruelly  murdering  unsuspecting 
"comrades." 

While  excess  of  misery  and  wretchedness  debases  human 
nature,  it  could  be  no  excuse  for  the  brutes,  who,  lost  to  every 
sense  of  honor,  duty  and  manhood,  were  stained  with  the  most 
revolting  crimes,  committed  upon  defenceless  and  unsuspecting 
comrades  (!),  and  it  was  only  when  forbearance  ceased  to  be  a 
virtue  and  despair  had  taken  possession  of  the  souls  of  the 
bravest  hearted,  who  only  thought  to  save  their  wretched  exist- 
ence, owing  to  the  constantly  increasing  number  of  heinous 
crimes  committed  by  the  more  sordid  and  unreasoning  prisoners, 
by  friends  to  whom  honor  and  duty  had  ever  been  unknown, 
that  heroic  measures  of  defence  first  suggested  themselves,  and 
an  appeal  to  the  Confederate  prison-keeper  determined  upon. 

This  cankerous  state  of  affairs  finally  ended  in  the  formation 
of  what  became  known  as  a  "Vigilance  Committee,"  very  much 
on  the  western  style  of  many  years  ago.  This  self-constituted 
organization,  composed  of  honest  men,  determined  to  take  the 
law  into  its  own  hands  for  the  law's  sake,  and  mete  out  swift  and 
terrible  justice  to  the  guilty  ones,  in  the  event  of  a  declination 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  203 

of  the  prison  commandant  to  interpose  in  behalf  of  law  and  order 
and  the  security  of  those  committed  to  his  care. 

When  the  chairman  of  the  delegation,  a  sergeant,  early  in 
June,  formally  and  eloquently  reported  a  long  list  of  heinous 
crimes  committed  by  the  "bounty  jumpers"  and  "coffee-coolers" 
of  the  Union  army,  whom  fate  had  thus  imprisoned,  General 
Winder,  the  commandant,  who  never  commiserated  with  the 
unfortunates,  nor  sought  to  relieve  their  sufferings  or  ameliorate 
their  wretched  and  forlorn  condition,  gave  full  authority  to  arrest 
and  try  the  murderers  by  court-martial,  and  if  found  guilty,  hang 
them.  This  proceeding  was  immediately  taken,  and  on  the 
Fourth  of  July  six  of  the  ringleaders  were  executed  on  a  rude 
scaffold  within  the  prison  enclosure,  all  the  prisoners  able  to 
raise  their  eyes  in  the  direction,  and  several  thousand  Confederate 
soldiers,  guarding  the  pen,  witnessing  the  singular  as  well  as 
awful  spectacle.  While  the  immense  assemblage,  with  deathlike 
stillness,  was  solemnly  impressed  by  the  scene  of  repulsive  hor- 
ror, and  Catholic  priests,  noted  for  their  goodnesses  to  the 
prisoners  whom  they  daily  visited,  uttered  words  of  Christian 
consolation  to  the  six  wretched  culprits,  standing,  as  it  were,  on 
the  brink  of  eternity,  with  stout  hempen  ropes  dangling  about 
their  necks,  the  fiends  who  had  long  terrorized  the  camp,  in- 
dulged in  hilarity,  bitterly  cursed  their  fellows,  and  uttered  male- 
dictions against  a  government  they  had  often  sworn  to  defend, 
after  receiving  large  sums  of  money  in  the  shape  of  "bounty" 
from  patriotic  citizens  who  preferred  remaining  at  home  to  jeo- 
pardizing their  precious  forms  on  the  battle-field,  and  who  were 
entirely  willing  that  any  one  else  should  take  the  chances,  no 
matter  how  disreputable  in  character  or  cowardly  in  spirit. 

These  wretches  had  steeled  their  hearts  against  every  virtue, 
committed  every  crime  in  the  calendar,  and  now,  in  their  last  mo- 
ments in  a  world  that  had  been  entirely  too  good  for  them,  they 
reviled  everybody  and  everything  about  them.  After  they  had 
been  launched  into  an  unknown  world  and  their  inanimate  bodies 
had  become  stiff  and  cold,  the  camp  of  misery  seemed  relieved 
of  an  appalling  incubus,  and  was  all  the  brighter  and  happier 
despite  surrounding  gloom  and  wretchedness,  for  the  vindication 
of  law  and  justice,  and  the  expiation  of  foul  wrongs  committed 
on  the  innocent  and  unwary  by  the  execution  of  the  lawless. 
The  retribution  which  thus  overtook  these  criminals  ended  the 
murderous  raids  that  had  been  so  dreadful  and  frequent. 

And  now  the  "Georgia  Daughters  of  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy," apparently  having  no  worthier  object  of  esteem,  are 


204  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

about  to  erect  in  a  prominent  spot  at  Andersonville  a  shaft  to 
the  memory  of  the  infamous  Henry  Wirz,  a  native  of  Switzer- 
land, keeper  of  the  pen,  who  for  his  inhuman  cruelties  to  the 
hepless  unfortunates  committed  to  his  tender  mercies,  was  tried 
by  the  United  States  Government,  found  guilty,  and  hung,  in 
expiation  of  his  numerous  offences  against  common  decency  and 
the  rules  of  civilized  warfare.  It  is  lamentable  that  Georgia 
women  can  find  none  among  those  who  bravely  served  that  com- 
monwealth on  fields  of  battle  more  worthy  of  such  a  tribute. 
Ne  vile  fano. 


SAD  FATE  OF  JERSEY  SOLDIERS. 

MANY  soldiers  were  unhappy  witnesses  of  one  of  the  most 
appalling  and  mournful  spectacles  of  the  Civil  War  when 
thirty-three  officers  and  enlisted  men  belonging  to  Com- 
panies A,  B,  C  and  L,  of  the  Twenty-seventh  New  Jersey  Volun- 
teers, out  of  a  total  of  fifty  on  board  a  flat-boat,  while  crossing 
the  Cumberland  River,  in  Kentucky,  May  6,  1863,  were  drowned 
in  the  unruly  flood  by  the  upsetting  of  the  unwieldy  craft,  in 
which  they  were  transporting  themselves  across  the  swift-flowing 
stream. 

Sergeant  Isaac  S.  Connett,  who  belonged  to  Company  F 
of  the  Twenty-seventh,  and  was  a  spectator  of  the  awful  catas- 
trophe, in  narrating  the  story  of  the  sad  affair  to  the  Veteran 
Zouaves  the  other  evening,  said: 

"Our  regiment,  with  three  others  and  a  battery  of  light  artil- 
lery, after  a  raid  in  the  latter  part  of  April,  1863,  and  a  pretty 
stiff  fight  at  Monticello,  Kentucky,  on  our  return,  reached  Sti- 
gpld's  Ferry,  on  the  Cumberland  River,  where  we  expected  to 
find  small  boats  in  which  to  cross  the  river,  but  instead  discov- 
ered two  large,  open  flat-boats,  whose  only  means  of  propulsion 
were  by  means  of  heavy  rope  cables,  attached  to  trees  and 
stretched  from  shore  to  shore,  worked  hand  over  hand  by  human 
power. 

"The  Second  Tennessee  and  104th  Ohio  Regiments,  a  por- 
tion of  the  battery  and  eight  companies  of  the  Twenty-seventh, 
had  successfully  effected  a  crossing  in  the  two  boats,  when  the 
remainder  of  the  artillery  embarked  in  the  larger  flat,  and  three 
companies  of  our  regiment,  in  the  smaller  boat,  started  to  cross. 
All  were  in  joyous  spirits,  as  the  term  for  which  we  had  enlisted 
was  on  the  eve  of  expiration,  and  our  hearts  rejoiced  at  the  early 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  205 

prospect  of  reaching  home.  We  had  been  kept  busy  since  join- 
ing Burnside's  Ninth  Corps,  just  previous  to  his  attack  on  Fred- 
ericksburg  in  December,  1862,  and  after  chasing  Longstreet  from 
Suffolk,  accompanied  Burnside  to  Kentucky,  to  clear  that  coun- 
try of  infesting  bands  of  guerrillas. 

"Most  of  those  who  had  already  crossed  the  river  and  lined 
the  high  bank  to  witness  the  movements  of  the  two  boats  were 
giving  exuberance  to  their  feelings  by  indulging  in  patriotic 
songs,  little  dreaming  of  the  terrible  calamity  that  was  so  soon  to 
overtake  the  voyagers,  throw  the  entire  command  into  a 
state  of  the  wildest  excitement,  and  fill  all  hearts  with  the  deepest 
sorrow. 

"Perhaps  I  ought  to  explain  that  the  flatboats  were  pulled 
across  the  stream,  which  had  a  current  of  six  miles  an  hour,  by 
four  men,  standing  in  the  bow  of  each  craft,  who  in  its  manipula- 
tion passed  one  hand  over  another  on  the  rope.  They  had  been 
cautioned  not  to  loosen  the  grasp  of  one  hand  until  the  other 
had  firmly  grasped  the  cable. 

"When  the  flat  containing  the  fifty  men  of  our  regiment 
had  reached  the  middle  of  the  river,  the  men  who  manned  the 
cable  suddenly  and  unaccountably  released  their  hold,  and  the 
lumbering  craft  swinging  instantly  around,  with  its  broadside  to 
the  rapid  current,  drifted  swiftly  down  the  stream  toward  the 
larger  and  lower  boat  in  which  the  artillery  had  taken  passage. 

"When  those  of  us  on  shore  realized  the  situation  of  our 
comrades  in  the  ungovernable  boat  as  extremely  perilous,  all 
gaiety  was  instinctively  hushed,  and  brave  men  held  their  breath 
lest  the  dangers  of  the  imperilled  be  increased.  Had  the  men  in 
charge  of  the  rope  maintained  their  composure  and  raised  the 
lower  rope  over  their  heads,  enabling  the  craft  to  drift  under- 
neath, danger  might  have  been  averted,  but  many  of  the  men 
became  instantly  excited,  and  as  the  flat  neared  the  lower  rope, 
they  leaped  up  and  attempted  to  seize  it,  hoping  thereby  to  stay 
the  progress  of  their  craft. 

"This  sudden  movement  caused  the  boat  to  careen,  fill  with 
water  and  precipitate  the  passengers  into  the  flood.  It  was  a 
moment  fraught  with  the  utmost  peril,  and  the  scene  that  fol- 
lowed beggars  description.  I  never  before,  nor  since,  saw  such 
an  exciting,  painful  and  heart-rending  spectacle,  nor  heard 
wilder,  more  agonizing  cries,  nor  may  I  ever  again  have  my 
soul  wrenched  by  the  sight  of  such  a  horror.  The  wild  shrieks 
on  land,  as  well  as  in  the  engulfing  waters,  which  at  this  instant 
arose,  still  ring  in  my  ears.  Strong,  brave-hearted  men,  inured 


206  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

to  dangers,  wrung  their  hands  in  passionate  grief  as  they  stood 
helplessly  by  and  saw  their  comrades,  one  after  another,  disappear 
under  the  cruel  waters,  utterly  unable  to  render  the  slightest 
assistance. 

"The  men,  struggling  in  the  stream,  heavily  laden  with 
accoutrements,  overcoats  and  blankets,  were  unable  to  swim, 
even  though  they  understood  the  natatory  art,  while  their  perils 
were  increased  by  many  in  their  wild  efforts  to  escape  a  watery 
grave,  instinctively  grasping  their  comrades  for  support,  thus 
carrying  down  supporters  and  supported. 

"Those  of  us  on  shore  who  were  compelled  to  behold  the 
sad  and  sickening  scene,  were  utterly  powerless  to  render  aid  to 
our  drowning  companions.  No  means  were  at  hand  to  reach  any 
who  were  struggling  fiercely  in  the  waters,  which  finally  en- 
tombed thirty-three  out  of  the  fifty  gallant  fellows  who  had  em- 
barked. Nineteen  of  those  who  thus  miserably  perished,  be- 
longing to  Company  L,  were  from  Morris  County.  Among 
those  who  that  day  in  that  manner  laid  their  lives  upon  their 
country's  altar,  were  Captain  John  T.  Alexander  of  Company  B, 
and  his  first  sergeant,  Albert  D.  Wiggons,  of  Morris  County. 

"It  was  only  after  the  waters  had  closed  over  the  mortality 
of  my  comrades  and  resumed  their  wonted  calmness,  that  with 
sorrowful  and  meditative  hearts,  late  that  beautiful  afternoon  in 
May,  we  took  up  our  line  of  march  for  camp  at  Somerset.  Some 
few  of  the  bodies  were  subsequently  recovered,  but  most  of  them 
never  found  an  earthly  resting  place,  their  bodies  finally  being 
buried  in  the  depths  of  unknown  seas. 

"My  brave  companions  thus  died,  not  as  they  could  have 
wished,  in  the  red  heat  of  battle,  but  none  the  less  they  sacrificed 
themselves  for  the  Nation's  cause  and  left  a  martyr's  heritage  to 
all  who  love  our  starry  banner  and  cherish  the  priceless  institu- 
tions bequeathed  by  our  forefathers,  and  preserved  by  the  valor 
of  the  volunteer  army  of  1861-1865. 

"To-day,  boys,  the  sun  shines  clear  in  the  woods,  hills  and 
rivers  of  old  Kentucky,  where  I,  with  a  thousand  other  Jersey- 
men,  during  the  war,  passed  pleasant  as  well  as  saddened  days, 
and  the  beautiful  blue-grass  region,  through  which  the  Zouaves 
toured  in  1890,  en  route  to  New  Orleans,  now  a  scene  of  peace 
and  plenty,  is  as  lovely  as  ever,  few,  if  any,  of  the  industrious 
and  quiet  denizens  of  the  charming  valley  having  recollection  of 
the  appalling  horror  myself  and  thousands  of  comrades  witnessed 
there  in  those  troublous  times  nearly  half  a  century  ago." 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  207 


GALLANT  UNION  SCOUT. 

CAPTAIN  EDWARD  S.  E.  NEWBURY,  residing  in 
Elizabeth,  although  born  in  North  Carolina,  served  in 
the  Third  New  Jersey  Volunteers  during  the  Civil  War, 
and  distinguished  himself  on  many  occasions.  Appointed  a 
scout  by  General  Philip  Kearny,  Newbury  had  his  first  thrilling 
adventure  on  the  night  of  November  4,  1861,  when,  accompanied 
by  Corporal  Thomas  P.  Edwards,  of  his  company,  he  left  the 
monotonous  camp  of  the  Jersey  brigade  near  Alexandria,  and 
keeping  well  within  the  deep  shadows  of  the  woods,  reached 
the  house  of  D.  Fitzhugh,  a  wealthy  planter,  who,  with  his  num- 
erous family,  a  day  or  two  previously,  had  deserted  the  home- 
stead in  the  hope  of  seeking  safety  elsewhere.  Learning  from 
an  aged  negress  who  was  nursing  her  son,  in  the  last  stages  of 
consumption,  in  a  nearby  cabin,  that  Mas'r  Fitzhugh  and  some 
gentlemen  would  arrive  shortly,  the  two  scouts,  in  great  glee  at 
the  information,  secreted  themselves  in  the  garden,  behind  a 
heavy  row  of  boxwood,  taking  with  them  from  the  mansion  a 
feather  bed,  some  handsome  woollen  blankets,  a  small  tin  cup 
and  a  few  trinkets  as  souvenirs.  Wrapping  themselves  with  the 
heavy  and  comfortable  bed  clothes,  the  intrepid  scouts  slept 
serenely  until  midnight,  when  their  quick  ears  detected  the 
sound  of  heavy  hoof  beats  over  the  frozen  road  leading  from 
the  highway  to  the  house,  before  which  five  men  dismounted. 
Leaving  one  of  their  number  to  care  for  the  animals,  the  others 
entered  the  mansion  and  kindled  a  fire  in  the  large  open  fire- 
place, the  reflection  of  the  blaze  illumining  the  large  apartment 
in  which  they  gathered. 

Newbury  and  Edwards,  feeling  they  could  gain  more  infor- 
mation and  be  in  a  better  position  for  defense  by  occupying  the 
kitchen,  constructed  of  logs,  cautiously  made  their  way  thither, 
but  the  movement  was  evidently  noticed  by  the  man  who  had 
been  left  to  care  for  the  horses.  Edwards,  revolver  in  hand,  sta- 
tioned himself  at  the  front  door  of  the  kitchen,  Newbury  taking 
post  at  the  rear  door.  By  a  somewhat  dim  reflection  of  the  light 
from  the  house,  Edwards,  a  moment  after,  saw  a  man  approach- 
ing his  post,  and  quietly  gave  a  signal  of  danger  to  Newbury. 
In  another  moment  the  fellow  appeared  at  the  door  and  peered 
anxiously  within.  Edwards  could  have  dropped  him  in  his 
tracks,  but  as  the  object  of  the  scouts  was  to  procure  intelli- 
gence that  would  be  of  value  to  General  Kearny,  he  refrained, 


208  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

great  as  was  the  temptation,  from  taking  the  desperate  initiative 
and  robbing  the  inquisitive  southerner  of  life.  But  Edwards, 
the  next  instant,  paid  dearly  for  his  forbearance,  as  the  man  who 
thus  boldly  confronted  him  discharged  his  weapon  point  blank 
at  his  breast  and  fled,  sounding  an  alarm,  which  brought  his 
four  companions  from  the  house  on  a  run.  The  ball  from  the 
Confederate's  pistol  entered  Edwards'  arm  above  the  elbow, 
coming  out  six  inches  above,  and  then,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
again  entered  his  body  by  way  of  the  back,  and  found  a  lodg- 
ment against  the  spinal  column,  thus  causing  a  double  wound, 
and  of  the  most  serious  and  painful  nature,  as  it  afterwards 
developed  to  the  grief  of  both  scouts. 

Although  desperately  injured,  Edwards,  believing  his  cap- 
ture imminent,  rushed  from  the  kitchen  and  disappeared  in  the 
Stygian  darkness,  leaving  Newbury  to  whatever  fate  might  be 
in  store  for  him.  The  alarm  thus  created,  as  I  have  stated, 
brought  the  four  men  from  the  mansion,  and  as  they  succes- 
sively emerged  therefrom,  Newbury  opened  fire  from  carbine 
and  revolver,  winging  one  of  the  fugitives,  who  insisted  that  the 
house  was  filled  with  Yankees.  Mounting  in  great  haste,  the 
five  men  galloped  rapidly  away. 

Fearing  the  Confederates  would  speedily  return  with  in- 
creased numbers,  Newbury  evacuated  the  kitchen,  and  made  his 
way  to  the  gate  opening  into  the  highway,  where  he  took  posi- 
tion and  lay  in  wait  for  the  return  of  the  discomfitted  party, 
should  it  have  the  temerity  to  again  venture  on  the  premises, 
determined  to  have  another  shot  or  two.  While  thus  situated 
and  almost  paralyzed  with  the  cold  and  a  disagreeable  rain,  just 
set  in,  Newbury  heard  a  sound  as  if  some  one  was  attempting 
to  climb  a  fence,  a  few  yards  away.  His  first  impulse  was  that 
the  noise  was  made  by  the  man  he  had  wounded,  so  he  lowered 
his  rifle  and  advanced  in  that  direction.  Hearing  a  deep  groan, 
and  now  suspicioning  that  it  might  be  Edwards,  Newbury  called 
his  name,  and  found  indeed  that  it  was  none  other. 

It  was  only  at  this  point  that  Newbury's  real  and  manifold 
troubles  commenced.  He  was  eight  or  ten  miles  from  the 
Union  lines,  surrounded  by  active  enemies,  with  a  helpless,  per- 
haps dying  comrade,  depending  upon  him,  and  in  absolute  dark- 
ness, with  a  driving  storm  of  rain,  and  a  biting  wind  from  the 
north.  His  brave  heart  almost  failed  at  the  prospect  before  him 
— the  situation  being  anything  but  inviting.  By  dint  of  almost 
superhuman  effort,  Newbury  finally  succeeded  in  getting  Ed- 
wards over  the  fence,  which  he  had  vainly  endeavored  to  climb. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  209 

and  partially  by  carrying,  lugging  and  dragging  the  inanimate 
and  blood-covered  form  of  his  companion,  managed  to  gain  the 
depths  of  a  corn-field,  where  he  left  him  to  seek  water  which 
Edwards  constantly  craved  to  quench  his  insatiable  and  consum- 
ing thirst,  so  great  was  the  fever  with  which  he  was  no  afflicted. 
Unfortunately,  Newbury  had  left  his  canteen  in  the  garden  where 
he  had  slept,  and  was  therefore  without  any  vessel  in  which  to 
carry  water  from  Accotinck  Creek,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away, 
save  the  small  tin  cup  which  Edwards  had  picked  up  in  Fitz- 
hugh's  house  and  put  in  his  haversack  to  keep  as  a  souvenir 
of  his  visit. 

When,  at  length,  daybreak  came,  Newbury,  fairly  exhausted 
by  anxiety  and  his  numerous  trips  through  the  corn-field  to  pro- 
cure water  for  his  stricken  companion,  almost  despaired  of  con- 
tinuing the  journey  unless  he  left  Edwards  behind,  but  after  a 
brief  rest  while  Edwards  dosed,  and  ascertaining  his  location, 
he  resumed  his  laborious  and  painful  journey  in  the  direction  of 
camp,  miles  and  miles  away,  with  imminent  and  deadly  perils 
intervening. 

Edwards,  whose  legs  had  become  paralyzed,  rendering  him 
absolutely  helpless,  continued  to  suffer  intense  agony.  His  shat- 
tered and  constantly  bleeding  arm,  over  which  he  had  no  con- 
trol, hung  limp  over  Newbury's  shoulder,  which  greatly  added  to 
his  task  in  supporting  his  burden  over  the  rough  and  uneven 
ground.  At  times  Newbury  was  strongly  tempted  to  abandon 
his  rifle  and  cartridges,  but  feeling  that  two  lives  might  depend 
on  that  protection,  he  as  often  relinquished  the  idea,  and  great 
and  inconvenient  as  was  his  double  burden,  struggled  on  and  on, 
determined,  if  necessary,  to  die  in  defence  of  his  suffering  com- 
panion, who,  most  of  the  time,  was  unconscious  of  the  herculean 
efforts  of  the  brave  and  gallant  Union  Carolinian  to  save  his  life, 
even  at  the  risk  of  his  own.  No  greater  sacrifice  can  a  man 
make  than  to  offer  his  life  for  a  helpless  comrade  or  for  his 
country. 

When  Newbury,  through  a  cold  rain-storm  and  angry  winds 
from  the  frozen  north,  finally  reached  Accotinck  Creek,  too  deep 
to  ford,  he  saw  no  way  of  crossing  the  stream,  and  his  strength 
and  heroic  courage  almost  deserted  him  as  he  sadly  contemplated 
the  obstruction  yawning  before  him.  He  knew  of  a  bridge, 
several  miles  away,  strongly  guarded,  and  he  also  knew  of  an 
apology  for  a  bridge  improvised  by  nature  in  the  shape  of  a 
monarch  of  the  Virginia  forest,  prostrated  by  time  and  age. 
Concluding  that  this  alone  would  enable  him  to  cross  the  flow- 


210  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

ing  stream,  Newbury  again  shouldered  his  burden  and  labori- 
ously made  his  way  thereto.  The  passage  was  made  in  safety, 
and  Newbury  was  congratulating  himself  upon  its  accomplish- 
ment, when,  in  descending  the  trunk,  somewhat  elevated  from 
the  wet  ground,  he  missed  his  precarious  footing,  and  fell  in  the 
mud.  carrying  Edwards  with  him.  A  fearful  and  heart-rending 
cry  of  pain  from  the  sufferer  awoke  echoes  in  the  deep  surround- 
ing woods,  which  resounded  with  alarming  distinctness  far  and 
wide.  To  stifle  Edwards'  terrible  moans  of  agony,  Newbury  was 
compelled  to  gag  him  for  a  time. 

All  through  that  long  and  fearful  day,  with  a  fierce  cold  wind 
piercing  the  marrow  of  his  bones,  with  his  apparel  thoroughly 
saturated  with  the  constantly  descending  rain,  the  gallant  New- 
bury toiled  on  and  on  towards  the  haven  of  rest  and  security. 
Weak,  worn  and  faint  from  the  great  efforts  he  had  put  forth 
for  more  than  sixteen  hours,  our  hero,  at  seven  o'clock  in  the 
evening  of  that  dark  and  dreary  November  day,  wearily  reached 
a  Union  piquet  post,  falling  prostrate  through  exhaustion,  with 
his  still  unconscious  burden,  as  Union  soldiers  hastened  to  his 
assistance,  ministered  to  his  necessities,  and  conveyed  him  and 
his  suffering  comrade  to  the  hospital. 

A  month  later  Newbury  cleverly  captured  a  private  named 
Johnson,  belonging  to  the  Lincoln  Cavalry  of  New  York,  while 
attempting  to  enter  the  Confederate  lines  as  a  deserter.  John- 
son was  shortly  after  executed  for  his  crime  in  the  presence  of 
the  Union  army  near  Alexandria. 


NEW  JERSEY'S  MEDAL  WINNERS. 


MORE  than  one  million  men  have  sought  for,  and  less  than 
two  thousand  men  have  secured,  the  most  coveted  prize 
offered  by  this  country  to  the  soldier  and  sailor — the 
Congressional  Medal  of  Honor.     But  twenty-seven  of  this  num- 
ber belonged  to  New  Jersey  commands — ten  having  member- 
ship in  the  First  New  Jersey  cavalry,  which  appears  to  have 
been  particularly  fortunate  in  this  respect.     Not  even  a  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  as  Commander  in  Chief,  nor  the  Ad- 
miral of  the  Navy  can  win  it,  however  brave  they  might  be. 

The  Medal  of  Honor  is  the  highest  decoration  for  personal 
valor  awarded  to  soldiers  and  sailors  of  the  United  States.    It  is 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS. 


211 


to  Americans  what  the  Iron 
Cross  of  Germany,  the  Vic- 
toria Cross  of  England,  or  the 
Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor 
of  France  are  to  those  coun- 
tries (but  much  harder  to 
win),  the  reward  of  the  high- 
est and  most  self-sacrificing 
heroism.  Every  wearer  of  it 
is  supposed  to  be  a  hero 
whose  personal  deeds  in  bat- 
tle, by  sea  or  land,  have  been 
so  conspicuous  as  to  merit  the 
approval  of  the  War  Depart- 
ment and  of  the  President  of 
the  United  States,  upon  those 
who  staked  their  all  for  the 
salvation  of  the  country,  but 
it  is  known  medals  have  been 
issued  to  some  who  never  had 
a  sound  claim  for  the  prize. 
This  is  shown,  for  instance, 
in  the  award  of  medals  to  four 

members  of  the  Twenty-seventh  New  Jersey  Infantry — a  nine 
months'  regiment — for  simply  "offering  their  services  to  the  Gov- 
ernment after  the  expiration  of  their  term  of  service."  If  they 
were  entitled  to  the  honor,  certainly  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
other  men  who  re-enlisted  after  much  longer  and  trying  terms 
of  service  were  justly  entitled  to  the  distinction. 

The  greatest  honor  which  the  Government  can  bestow  upon 
its  soldiers  and  sailors  and  which  carries  no  pension  or  other 
emolument  with  it,  was  conferred  for  conspicuous  gallantry  dur- 
ing the  Civil  War  by  an  act  of  Congress,  passed  March  3,  1863. 
Recommendation  for  this  decoration  is  referred  to  a  special  board 
of  regular  army  officers  at  Washington,  appointed  by  the  Secre- 
tary of  War,  and  approved  by  the  President,  for  the  purpose  of 
examining  the  official  reports.  These  are  judged  by  a  standard 
of  extraordinary  merit,  and  incontestable  proof  of  the  nature  of 
the  service  rendered  is  exacted.  The  medal  is  not  granted  on 
the  application  of  the  person  interested,  nor  upon  the  recom- 
mendation and  testimony  of  his  comrades.  To  obtain  the  medal 
a  man  must  have  a  splendid  record  as  well  as  a  particular  inci- 
dent of  conspicuous  bravery. 


212  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

As  far  back  as  1782  General  Washington  established  the 
honorary  badge  of  military  merit  as  a  reward  for  men  who  served 
with  distinction  in  the  Revolutionary  War.  Since  then  the 
reward  system  has  assumed  different  forms.  The  brevet  sys- 
tem, which  was  the  most  popular  form,  was  started  in  1776,  and 
yet  at  the  commencement  of  the  War  of  1812  not  a  single  army 
officer  held  a  brevet.  The  system,  however,  was  wonderfully 
developed  in  the  Mexican  War,  and  during  and  after  the  Civil 
War  brevets  were  handed  out  promiscuously.  They  could  be 
had  for  the  asking. 

Thousands  who  fell  in  the  Civil  War  gloriously  earned  the 
Medal  of  Honor,  but  Congress,  cruel  though  it  may  seem,  recog- 
nizes only  the  heroes  who  lived.  In  New  Jersey  time  has  thinned 
the  ranks  of  the  veterans  of  the  Civil  War,  and  now  those  who, 
by  deeds  of  valor  and  merit,  received  the  Medal  of  Honor  for 
services  rendered  the  United  States,  are  few  and  far  between. 
So  far  as  I  am  able  to  ascertain,  but  four  Jerseymen  holders  of 
the  medal  are  now  living. 

The  following  is  a  complete  list  of  New  Jersey  soldiers  who 
received  the  medal,  with  official  record  attached : 

Sergeant  John  P.  Beech,  Company  B,  Fourth  New  Jersey 
Infantry,  Spottsylvania  Court  House,  Va.,  May  12,  1864.  Vol- 
untarily worked  gun  of  battery  that  had  been  deserted. 

Lieutenant  William  Brant,  Company  B,  First  New  Jersey 
Veteran  Battalion,  Petersburg,  April  3,  1865.  Found  flag  of 
Forty-sixth  North  Carolina  Regiment  on  picket  line. 

Sergeant  Samuel  T.  Clancy,  Company  C,  First  New  Jersey 
Cavalry,  Vaughn  Road,  Va.,  October  1,  1864.  Shot  and  killed 
Confederate  General  Dunovant  during  a  charge,  thus  confusing 
enemy  and  greatly  aiding  in  repulse. 

Private  Richard  Conner,  Company  F,  Sixth  New  Jersey  In- 
fantry, Bull  Run,  Va.,  August  30,  1862.  The  flag  of  the  Sixth 
Regiment  having  been  abandoned  during  a  retreat,  Conner 
voluntarily  returned  with  a  single  companion  under  a  heavy  fire 
and  secured  and  brought  off  the  colors,  his  comrade  being  killed. 

Sergeant  Major  Amos  J.  Cummings,  Twenty-sixth  New 
Jersey  Infantry,  Salem  Heights,  Va.,  May  4,  1863.  Rendered 
great  assistance  in  the  heat  of  the  action  in  rescuing  a  part  of 
one  of  the  field  batteries  from  an  extremely  dangerous  and 
exposed  position. 

Captain  J.  Madison  Drake,  Ninth  New  Jersey  Infantry. 
Gallant  and  distinguished  services  in  the  field,  1861-1865.  First 
to  enter  Confederate  works  at  the  battle  of  Newbern,  N.  C., 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  213 

March  14,  1862.  Commanded  advance  of  Army  of  the  James  in 
its  attack  on  Drewry's  Bluff,  Va.,  May,  1861. 

First  Sergeant  Edmund  English,  Company  C,  Second  New 
Jersey  Infantry,  Wilderness,  Va.,  May  6,  1864.  During  a  rout, 
and  while  under  orders  to  retreat,  seized  the  colors,  rallied  the 
men  and  drove  the  enemy  back. 

Private  Frank  Fesq,  Company  A,  Fortieth  New  Jersey  In- 
fantry, Petersburg,  Va.,  April  2,  1865.  Captured  flag  of  Eigh- 
teenth North  Carolina  Infantry. 

Corporal  William  B.  Hooper,  Company  L,  First  New  Jer- 
sey Cavalry,  Chamberlain's  Creek,  Va.,  March  31,  1865.  With 
the  assistance  of  comrade,  headed  off  the  advance  of  the  enemy, 
shooting  two  of  his  color-bearers ;  also  posted  himself  between 
the  enemy  and  the  led  horses  of  his  own  command,  thus  saving 
the  herd  from  capture. 

Private  Charles  F.  Hopkins,  Company  I,  First  New  Jersey 
Infantry,  Gaines's  Mill,  Va.,  June  27,  1862.  Voluntarily  carried 
a  wounded  comrade  (the  late  Quartermaster-General  R.  A.  Don- 
nelly) under  a  heavy  fire  to  a  place  of  safety;  though  twice 
wounded  in  the  act,  he  continued  in  action  until  again  severely 
wounded. 

Private  Lewis  Locke,  Company  A,  First  New  Jersey  Cav- 
alry, Paine's  Cross  Roads,  Va.,  April  5,  1865.  Captured  Con- 
federate flag. 

Drummer  William  Megee,  Company  G,  Thirty-third  New 
Jersey  Infantry,  Murfreesboro,  Tenn.,  December  5,  1864.  Among 
first  to  capture  two  guns. 

Sergeant  William  Porter,  Company  H,  First  New  Jersey 
Cavalry,  Nashville,  Tenn.,  December  15-16,  1864.  Among  the 
first  to  check  the  enemy's  countercharge. 

Sergeant  John  C.  Sagelhurst,  Company  C,  First  New  Jer- 
sey Cavalry,  Hatcher's  Run,  Va.,  February  6,  1865.  Under  a 
heavy  fire  from  the  enemy  carried  off  the  field  a  commissioned 
officer  who  was  severely  wounded,  and  also  led  a  charge  on 
enemy's  rifle  pits.  (This  medal  was  issued  January  31,  1906.) 

Colonel  William  J.  Sewell,  Fifth  New  Jersey  Infantry,  Chan- 
cellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863.  Assuming  command  of  brigade, 
he  rallied  around  his  colors  a  mass  of  men  from  other  regiments 
and  fought  these  troops  with  great  brilliancy  through  several 
hours  of  desperate  conflict,  remaining  in  command  though 
wounded  and  inspiring  them  by  his  presence  and  the  gallantry  of 
his  personal  example. 

Sergeant  David  Southard,  Company  C,  First  New  Jersey 


214  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

Cavalry,  Sailors'  Creek,  Va.,  April  6,  1865.  Capture  of  flag,  and 
first  man  over  in  enemy's  works. 

First  Sergeant  George  W.  Stewart,  Company  E,  First  New 
Jersey  Cavalry,  Paine's  Cross  Roads,  April  5,  1865.  Capture 
of  flag. 

Private  Christian  Sterile,  Company  L,  First  New  Jersey 
Cavalry,  Paine's  Cross  Roads,  Va.,  April  5,  1865.  Capture  of 
flag. 

Captain  Forester  L.  Taylor,  Company  H,  Twenty-third  New 
Jersey  Infantry,  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863.  At  great 
risk,  voluntarily  saved  the  lives  of,  and  brought  from  battle- 
field, two  wounded  comrades. 

Sergeant  Charles  Titus,  Company  H,  First  New  Jersey  Cav- 
alry, Sailors'  Creek,  Va.,  April  6,  1865.  Was  among  the  first  to 
check  the  enemy's  countercharge. 

Lieutenant  John  J.  Toffey,  Company  G,  Thirty-third  New 
Jersey  Infantry.  Although  excused  from  duty  on  account  of 
sickness,  he  went  to  the  front  in  command  of  a  storming  party 
and  with  conspicuous  gallantry  participated  in  the  assault  on 
Missionary  Ridge. 

Sergeant  Aaron  B.  Tomkins,  Company  G,  First  New  Jersey 
Cavalry,  Sailors'  Creek,  Va.,  April  6,  1865.  Charged  into  enemy's 
ranks  and  captured  flag,  having  horse  shot  under  him,  and  his 
cheeks  and  shoulder  cut  with  a  sabre. 

Sergeant  Charles  E.  Wilson,  Company  A,  First  New  Jersey 
Cavalry,  Sailors'  Creek,  Va.,  April  6,  1865.  Charged  the  enemy's 
works,  colors  in  hand,  and  had  two  horses  shot  under  him. 

Sergeant  John  Wilson,  Company  L,  First  New  Jersey  Cav- 
alry, Chamberlain's  Creek,  Va.,  March  31,  1865.  With  the 
assistance  of  one  comrade  headed  off  the  advance  of  the  enemy, 
shooting  two  of  his  color-bearers,  and  kept  between  the  enemy 
and  the  led  hbrses  of  his  company,  thus  saving  the  herd  from 
capture. 

TRICKED  BY  SHARPSHOOTER. 

OF  the  many  brave  and  noble-hearted  young  men  in  the 
army  during  the  Civil  War  none  were  more  daring  or 
faithful  in  the  execution  of  dangerous  duty  than  Dennis 
McDonald,  of  Company  K,  Third  New  Jersey  Volunteers,  still 
living  at  his  home  in  Elizabeth.    McDonald  was  but  18  years  of 
age  when  he  responded  to  the  call  of  his  adopted  country  for 
volunteers  to  defend  the  flag  he  loved.     He  participated  with 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  215 

his  command  in  nearly  all  the  battles  in  which  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  engaged,  and  was  noted  for  expertness  with  a  rifle. 

It  was  while  pursuing  General  Lee's  decimated,  defeated 
and  demoralized  army,  after  the  sanguinary  three  days'  battle 
at  Gettysburg  that  McDonald's  company  found  itself  on  the 
advancing  skirmish  line,  close  upon  the  heel  of  the  swiftly  retreat- 
ing Confederates,  who  were  taking  desperate  chances  in  reaching 
the  Potomac  River.  So  severe  and  hot  was  one  fight  which  the 
Confederates  put  up  at  one  particular  spot,  that  the  lieutenant, 
to  save  Company  K  from  capture,  ordered  a  retreat.  The  retro- 
gade  movement  was  executed  by  all  save  McDonald,  who,  secur- 
ing the  friendly  protection  of  a  large  tree  conveniently  at  hand, 
remained  and  continued  firing  on  his  own  account,  as  oppor- 
tunity presented  itself. 

After  a  while  McDonald,  peering  from  his  covert,  and  see- 
ing the  Confederates  disappearing  from  his  front,  stepped  out 
into  the  open,  and  was  surprised  when  he  heard  the  report  of  a 
rifle  and  felt  a  big  Minnie  bullet  tearing  through  his  old  blue  capr 
which  was  carried  from  his  head.  A  moment  sufficed  to  regain 
the  covering  he  had  the  moment  before  left.  He  knew  a  Con- 
federate sharpshooter  was  similarly  situated  a  hundred  or  so- 
yards  in  his  front,  and  realized  that  one  or  the  other  must  suffer 
because  of  the  peculiar  situation  in  which  they  thus  unexpectedly 
found  themselves. 

McDonald,  holding  his  very  breath,  waited  some  time  to 
hear  from  the  Confederate,  who  continued  to  hug  his  tree  as 
closely  as  possible,  and  finally  finding  it  useless  to  prolong  the 
agony  he  was  suffering,  resorted  to  the  ruse  of  placing  his  cap 
on  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle,  and  slowly  extending  the  weapon,  ex- 
posed the  headgear.  The  stratagem  succeeded,  as  the  next  in- 
stant a  well-aimed  bullet  went  crashing  through  the  cap,  and 
McDonald  fell  to  the  ground  in  plain  view  of  his  enemy,  who- 
instantly  darted  from  his  hiding  place  and  advanced  on  a  rim 
toward  the  prostrate  and  supposedly  dead  wounded  soldier. 

McDonald,  all  alert,  waited  till  the  self-confident  Confederate 
reached  within  a  few  feet  of  where  he  lay,  then  he  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  leveling  his  rifle  at  the  onrushing  Confederate,  bade 
him  halt,  throw  down  his  unloaded  weapon  and  surrender. 

Surprised  at  McDonald's  return  to  life  as  well  as  his  de- 
mand, the  plucky  Confederate  turned  upon  his  heel  and  dashedi 
away  in  the  direction  in  which  he  had  just  come. 

"Halt!"  shouted  McDonald,  giving  instant  chase,  "or  TIE 
blow  your  head  off." 


216  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

To  this  peremptory  summons  the  Confederate  paid  no  heed, 
but  continued  his  flight,  the  Union  soldier  close  in  his  rear. 

McDonald,  now  some  distance  in  advance  of  the  Union 
troops,  fearful  of  running  into  a  bunch  of  Confederates,  and  hav- 
ing no  desire  to  be  killed  or  taken  to  Richmond,  determined  to 
bring  matters  to  a  conclusion.  He  shouted  loud  enough  to 
awaken  the  "seven  sleepers,"  but  the  fleeing  Confederate  con- 
tinued on.  Nothing  but  a  bullet  would  stop  his  flight,  and  this 
the  now  hard-breathing  Union  soldier  was  compelled  to  send. 

"Halt !  or  I'll  shoot.  Last  call,"  said  McDonald,  and  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  discharged  his  trusty  rifle,  bringing 
down  his  quarry  with  a  bullet  through  one  of  his  legs.  In  an- 
other moment  McDonald  was  at  the  side  of  the  prostrate 
Southron. 

"Curse  you,"  he  bitterly  ejaculated.  "I  hope  I'll  live  to  get 
even  with  you  for  this." 

It  was  thousands  of  instances  of  like  character  that  showed 
the  stuff  of  which  Northern  and  Southern  soldiers  in  the  great 
Civil  War  were  made. 


THE  "TECUMSEH'S"  MOURNFUL  FATE. 

UNDERNEATH  the  ever-flowing  waters  of  Mobile  Bay, 
near  the  ruins  of  Fort  Morgan,  which  the  Confederates 
deemed  impregnable,  forever  lies  buried  the  United 
States  Monitor  Tecumseh,  a  powerful  craft  with  its  living  cargo 
of  one  hundred  brave  souls,  having  been  sent  to  its  final  resting- 
place  early  on  the  morning  of  August  5,  1864,  by  a  Confederate 
torpedo.  Within  the  iron  walls  of  the  unfortunate  Tecumseh, 
the  only  vessel  in  the  great  sea  fight  there  to  meet  with  disaster, 
still  repose  the  bones  of  one  hundred  of  the  bravest  young  men 
who  ever  served  our  country — one  of  whom,  when  the  Civil  War 
burst  forth,  was  a  resident  of  Elizabeth. 

It  was  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  that  glorious  and  event- 
ful day,  in  which  American  valor  shone  with  conspicuous  bril- 
liancy, when  the  Union  fleet,  in  command  of  Admiral  David  G. 
Farragut  (an  ensign  in  the  navy  at  the  age  of  eleven  years),  who 
first  saw  the  light  of  day  in  a  humble  cabin  among  the  mountains 
of  East  Tennessee,  the  greatest  seaman  of  his  day,  after  locking 
his  vessels  together,  two  by  two,  steamed  from  the  open  sea  into 
the  bay,  strongly  guarded  by  forts  on  land  and  powerful  ships 
ready  to  dispute  entrance.  The  Brooklyn  led  the  column,  fol- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  217 

lowed  by  Farragut's  flagship,  the  immortal  Hartford,  and  in  sin- 
gle file  ahead  of  this  procession  of  death  and  destruction  went 
four  iron-clad  monitors,  escorted  by  the  fated  Tecumseh. 

The  Tecumseh  fired  the  first  two  shots  in  opening  what 
proved  to  be  one  of  the  fiercest  naval  engagements  recorded  in 
history,  lasting,  as  it  did,  from  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  till 
five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  ending  in  the  complete  triumph 
of  the  Union  fleet.  The  intrepid  Farragut,  lashed  to  the  rigging, 
close  under  the  maintop,  the  better  to  watch  the  progress  of  the 
battle,  and  give  more  intelligent  orders,  seeing  the  Brooklyn 
wavering  in  its  advance  after  the  Tecumseh  went  to  the  bottom, 
signaled  to  his  commander,  "What's  the  trouble?"  On  receiv- 
ing the  answer,  "Torpedoes  ahead !"  the  admiral  replied,  "Damn 
the  torpedoes !  Go  ahead !  Four  bells !" 

Somewhat  provoked  at  the  slight  stoppage  of  the  Brooklyn, 
the  admiral  at  once  ordered  the  Hartford  to  forge  ahead,  and  in 
a  moment  that  noble  ship  passed  the  Brooklyn,  an  awful  silence 
pervading  her  crew  as  she  went,  full  speed,  straight  for  the  line 
of  torpedoes,  and  in  safety  crossed  what  was  considered  the  fatal 
line. 

A  recent  guest  of  Sergeant  William  Zimmerman  of  Eliza- 
beth, who  was  a  gunner  on  the  Hartford,  in  telling  the  Zouaves 
about  the  fight,  said  that  one  of  the  strangest  fatalities  he  saw 
during  the  whole  course  of  the  war  was  when  a  powder  boy 
named  Clark,  hailing  from  some  part  of  New  Jersey,  lost  both 
legs  by  a  round  shot  from  the  Confederate  ram  Tennessee,  which 
tore  through  both  sides  of  the  Hartford.  "As  Clark  fell,"  con- 
tinued the  old  sailor,  "he  involuntarily  threw  up  both  hands, 
when  a  second  but  smaller  missile  took  off  both  arms  above  the 
elbow.  He  lived  but  a  few  minutes. 

"Yes,  I  saw  the  Monitor  Tecumseh  go  down.  She  was 
struck  forward  and  directly  underneath  by  a  powerful  mine.  I 
was  looking  out  of  a  port-hole  at  the  moment,  trying  to  see  all  I 
could,  which,  I  must  say,  was  very  little,  owing  to  the  small 
opening,  and  it  just  chanced  that  as  I  looked  out  at  one  time 
between  the  shots,  I  saw  the  Tecumseh  raised  from  the  water, 
and  the  next  instant  plunge  bow  foremost,  with  her  colors  flying, 
to  the  bottom  of  the  deep  channel. 

"My  heart  almost  failed  me  at  this  awful  sight,  which  I  was 
attempting  to  describe  to  those  about  me,  when  an  officer  bade 
me  be  quiet.  He  probably  didn't  want  the  men  to  get  rattled 
over  the  circumstance.  There  was  a  moment  or  two  about  that 
time  when  we  all  shook  in  our  shoes,  as  we  knew  there  would  be 


218  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

a  slim  chance  for  us  to  escape  in  case  our  ship  should  be  struck 
in  a  vital  part,  or  sunk  by  one  of  the  several  Confederate  vessels 
which  made  repeated  attempts  to  ram  us. 

"I  saw  Admiral  Farragut  ascend  the  rigging  of  the  Hart- 
ford to  a  height  of  some  sixty  feet  in  order  to  know  more  about 
what  was  going  on,  and  heard  Captain  Drayton,  who  feared  the 
admiral  might  fall,  order  'Dick'  Knowles  to  accompany  the  old 
fellow  and  lash  him  to  the  rope  ladder  up  which  he  made  his  way 
with  extreme  agility. 

"It  had  been  the  admiral's  intention  to  occupy  the  top,  to 
which  a  rubber  hose,  with  tin  mouth-piece  at  each  end,  was  hung 
on  the  mast  from  the  top  to  the  deck,  so  that  he  could  the  more 
readily  communicate  with  our  pilot,  but  it  being  found  expedient 
to  mount  a  gun  up  there,  the  admiral  took  position  in  the  rig- 
ging underneath,  and  was  strapped  to  it  with  a  gasket.  Tire- 
some as  it  must  have  been,  the  admiral  remained  in  that  position 
for  several  hours.  None  of  us  thought  anything  about  the  lash- 
ing incident  at  the  time,  or  dreamed  that  it  was  just  the  thing 
that  would  catch  the  public  fancy  and  make  the  admiral  more 
famous  than  any  other  incident  of  his  long  career.  At  Santiago, 
a  few  years  ago,  a  fleet  captain,  fifty  miles  away  from  the  point 
of  danger,  was  made  a  rear-admiral,  but  things  are  far  different 
in  these  days." 

Of  the  sad  fate  of  the  brave  defenders  of  our  flag,  thus 
cruelly  engulfed  beneath  the  waters  of  Mobile  Bay  that  day, 
under  a  terrible  fire  or  iron  hail  rained  from  land  and  sea,  and 
who  have  since  slept  tranquilly  in  their  iron  tomb,  I  doubt  not, 
all  met  the  last  grim  messenger  with  eye  and  heart  uplifted,  it 
may  be,  but  dauntless  and  unquailing,  having  commended  them- 
selves to  the  mercy  of  Heaven,  their  last  moments  doubtless  be- 
ing spent  in  invoking  blessings  on  the  heads  of  loved  ones  at 
home,  who  grew  faint  while  keeping  weary  vigils  for  the  loved 
and  lost. 

THE  NOTED  WAR  EAGLE. 

THE  present  busy  generation  knows  but  little,  if  anything, 
concerning  "Old  Abe,"  the  war  eagle  of  the  Eighth  Wis- 
consin Regiment,  a  bird  that  may  be  said  to  be  immortal, 
because  of  its  association  through  the  long  and  bitter  war  for 
the  Union,  with  the  western  army,  whose  members  idolized  it 
while  alive  and  mourned  for  it  when  dead. 

"Old  Abe"  died  at  Madison,  the  capital  of  Wisconsin,  in 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  219 

1881,  at  the  age  of  twenty  years.  While  in  attendance  at  the 
National  Republican  Convention  at  Chicago  in  June,  1868, 
when  General  Grant  was  first  nominated  for  the  presidency,  amid 
the  greatest  enthusiasm  ever  shown  at  such  a  gathering,  I  very 
well  remember  the  tumultuous  scenes  and  uproarious  applause 
enacted  by  the  immense  assemblage  in  the  most  commodious 
theatre  in  Chicago,  when  "Old  Abe,"  perched  upon  the  staff  on 
which  he  had  accompanied  the  Eighth  Regiment  in  all  its  cam- 
paigns, was  borne  in  upon  the  stage  after  General  Grant's  nomi- 
nation had  been  made  by  acclamation. 

Born  in  the  wilds  of  Wisconsin  just  previous  to  the  out- 
break of  the  war,  the  chequered  life  of  "Old  Abe"  was  an  ova- 
tion from  beginning  to  end.  General  Grant  himself  might  have 
envied  the  popularity  of  this  noble  bird,  and  long  in  vain  for  the 
cheers  and  applause  which  everywhere,  and  upon  all  occasions, 
greeted  him.  "Old  Abe,"  always  borne  aloft  beside  the  silken 
colors  of  his  regiment,  and  consequently  a  conspicuous  mark  in 
the  thirty-six  battles  through  which  he  passed,  although  fre- 
quently struck  by  bullets,  escaped  serious  injury.  In  the  battle's 
red  heat  his  piercing  screams  nerved  the  men  of  his  regiment  to 
deeds  of  daring,  and  never  a  bird  that  wore  plumage  had  experi- 
ences or  fame  like  "Old  Abe."  No  other  command  ever  had  or 
used  such  a  mascot — one  so  capable  of  exciting  imagination  and 
inciting  soldiery  to  the  work  before  them — so  glorious  an 
emblem. 

The  golden  eagle  was  the  military  emblem  of  the  Roman 
republic,  the  attachment  of  its  troops  to  the  standard  being  in- 
spired by  the  united  influence  of  religion  and  honor.  It  glittered 
in  the  front  of  the  legion,  and  was  ever  the  object  of  fondest 
devotion ;  nor  was  it  esteemed  less  impious  than  ignominious, 
to  abandon  that  sacred  ensign  in  the  hour  of  danger.  The  golden 
eagle,  too,  was  the  treasured  ensign  of  Napoleon  and  his  choicest 
followers,  but  the  American  eagle  was  and  is  the  symbol  of  the 
greatest  and  freest  republic  ever  formed — our  own  beloved 
America. 

"Old  Abe,"  too,  was  a  faithful  and  intelligent  sentinel,  as 
on  repeated  occasions  he  sounded  notes  of  warning  of  the  hither- 
to unsuspected  advance  of  the  enemy.  He  seemed  gifted  with 
human  instinct,  and  it  was  because  of  acts  of  this  character  that 
"Old  Abe"  was  regarded  by  the  soldiers  with  feelings  akin  to 
superstitious  reverence. 

Often  and  again  did  "Old  Abe"  play  tricks  on  his  caretaker 
by  escaping,  and  soaring  high  towards  the  heavens,  to  be  out  of 


220  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

the  enemy's  range,  enjoy  an  ethereal  excursion,  and  tiring  of  the 
mid-air  flight,  return  to  his  place  in  the  marching  column.  At 
the  battle  of  Jackson,  in  rear  of  Vicksburg,  during  the  siege  of 
that  stronghold,  a  terrible  storm  of  lightning  and  thunder  added 
clamor  to  the  wild  roar  of  the  contest,  but  this  merely  added  to 
the  joys  of  "Old  Abe,"  upon  whose  pinions  the  lightning  played, 
as  spreading  his  majestic  wings  he  whistled  in  a  manner  peculiar 
to  himself  and  screamed  like  the  true  bird  of  Jove  that  he  was. 

"Old  Abe"  delighted  particularly  in  the  booming  of  artillery, 
never  manifesting  fear  in  presence  of  the  big  guns  that  constantly 
pounded  away  at  Vicksburg.  On  the  contrary,  at  every  dis- 
charge he  would  spread  his  wings  and  utter  cloud-reaching 
screams  as  if  animated  by  all  the  enthusiasm  of  war,  and  the 
exciting  scenes  about  him.  His  conduct  at  such  times  was  highly 
inspiring. 

At  the  final  assault  on  Vicksburg  "Old  Abe"  firmly  gripped 
his  perch,  as  he  was  borne  along  and  aloft,  craned  his  beautiful 
and  graceful  neck  to  watch  the  movements  of  the  troops,  his 
eyes  blazing  and  seeming  in  a  frenzy  of  rage.  While  the  colors 
of  the  Eighth  Regiment,  ever  at  his  side,  were  riddled,  "Old 
Abe,"  although  hit  several  times,  escaped  injury. 

Upon  the  return  home  of  the  Eighth  Regiment,  and  its 
muster-out  of  the  service,  "Old  Abe"  was  presented  to  the  state, 
the  governor  accepting  the  old  warrior  in  an  eloquent  speech, 
promising  that  the  commonwealth  should  care  for  him  till 
the  end,  which  was  religiously  done — the  bird  having  a  com- 
fortable home  in  the  basement  of  the  capital,  where,  until  his 
death,  he  was  an  object  of  especial  interest  to  all  visitors. 

Smoke  at  a  fire  in  an  adjoining  apartment  caused  the  death 
of  "Old  Abe"  by  asphyxiation,  and  he  was  made  a  subject  of 
the  taxidermist's  art,  and  to-day  his  stuffed  effigy,  gracefully 
placed  upon  his  old  perch,  attracts  all  visitors  to  the  state  house 
at  Madison. 


REGULARS  AND  VOLUNTEERS  COMPARED. 

IN  times  of  war  the  American  nation  has  always  relied  upon 
the  people  for  volunteers  to  defend  its  institutions,  and  the 
people  of  the  United  States  owe  their  present  marvelous 
prosperity,  their  peace  at  home  and  world-wide  influence  to  the 
single  fact  that  the  Union  was  preserved  by  the  self-sacrifices, 
patriotism,  valor,  and  fortitude  of  the  volunteers.    In  respect  to 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  221 

the  interests  of  the  entire  human  race,  the  preservation  of  the 
Union  was  the  most  important  political  event  in  the  tide  of  time, 
and  the  victory  achieved  by  American  volunteers,  after  a  des- 
perate struggle  for  four  years,  kept  in  the  political  firmament  of 
the  world,  as  a  beacon  light,  the  republican  principle  of  self- 
government.  The  repose,  progress  and  prosperity,  to  say  noth- 
ing about  the  very  existence  of  the  United  States  as  a  nation,  was 
involved  in  that  sanguinary  struggle. 

The  regular  army  of  the  United  States  has  ever  been  a  neg- 
ligible quantity.  When  the  war  of  1812  began  we  had  but  6,686 
officers  and  men,  all  told,  in  the  regular  establishment.  In  1814 
the  number  was  temporarily  increased  to  38,186.  During  the 
war  the  country  raised  31,210  officers  and  440,412  enlisted  men, 
making  a  total  of  471,622. 

When  war  was  declared  against  Mexico  the  regular  army 
numbered  637  officers  and  5,925  enlisted  men — a  total  of  6,562. 
By  July,  1814,  we  had  1,016  officers  and  35,009  enlisted  men— a 
total  of  42,587.  A  volunteer  force  of  3,131  officers  and  70,129 
enlisted  men,  a  total  of  73,260,  was  raised  for  that  war. 

When  the  Civil  War  came  the  regular  army  consisted  of  but 
15,215  officers  and  men,  scattered  throughout  our  broad  land.  In 
June,  1862,  the  regular  army  numbered  1,720  officers  and  23,761 
enlisted  men — total,  25,480.  In  June,  1863,  there  were  1,844 
officers  and  22,915  men — total,  24,759.  In  June,  1864,  there  were 
1,813  officers  and  19,791  men— total,  21,604.  In  April,  1865, 
when  General  Lee  surrendered  his  Army  of  Northern  Virginia 
to  General  Grant  at  Appomattox,  the  regular  army  consisted  of 
1,606  officers  and  20,705  men,  a  total  of  22,311  of  all  arms. 

The  volunteer  enlistments  of  all  lengths  of  service  during 
the  four  years  of  the  Civil  War  numbered  2,763,670.  These  re- 
duced to  a  three  years'  standard  of  enlistment  numbered  2,324,- 
516. 

The  regular  army  lost  but  122  officers  and  1,519  enlisted 
men  killed  in  action,  and  452  officers  and  6,663  enlisted  men 
wounded.  Of  the  volunteers,  4,142  officers  and  62,916  enlisted 
men  were  killed  in  action,  and  2,223  officers  and  40,787  enlisted 
men  died  of  wounds,  making  a  total  of  110,065  officers  and  en- 
listed men  who  lost  their  lives  in  action.  This  shows  with  ter- 
rible distinctness  the  difference  in  casualties  between  the  regulars 
and  volunteers.  This  does  not  include  the  248,000  volunteers 
who  died  of  diseases  and  casualties  incident  to  the  service,  and 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  volunteers  who  were  wounded  and 
recovered. 


222  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES- OF  THE 

While  all  regular  army  officers,  many  of  whom  secured  snug 
berths  in  Washington  and  other  cities  while  the  fighting  was 
going  on,  on  retirement  received  three-fourths'  pay  for  life,  not  a 
volunteer  officer,  save  a  few  of  high  rank  who  had  political  influ- 
ence in  congress,  ever  received  that  recognition. 

Will  any  one  say  this  is  just  ? 


NEW  JERSEY'S  FORCE  IN  THE  FIELD. 

IN  its  efforts  to  sustain  the  Government  and  aid  in  the  preser- 
vation of  the  American  Union  in  the  fratricidal  conflict  of 

1861-1865,  New  Jersey,  true  to  its  traditions,  gave  freely  of 
its  treasure,  and  its  best  blood  crimsoned  nearly  every  battle- 
field of  the  republic. 

The  defiant  shouts  of  New  Jersey  soldiers  were  first  heard 
in  the  swamps  of  Roanoke  Island,  and  these  were  echoed  on  the 
heights  of  Fredericksburg,  in  the  Shenandoah  valley,  at  Gettys- 
burg, in  the  impenetrable  thickets  of  the  Wilderness,  on  the 
banks  of  the  majestic  James  River,  at  Missionary  Ridge,  among 
the  clouds  at  Lookout  Mountain  and  other  sanguinary  fields. 

I  have  compiled  the  following  from  the  official  records  of  the 
rebellion,  as  published  by  the  state  of  New  Jersey,  and  the  facts 
given  may  not  be  wholly  uninteresting  to  readers  of  the  present 
day. 

New  Jersey  is  credited  with  having  furnished  about  80,000 
men  for  the  army  and  navy  during  the  Civil  War,  but  probably 
one-fourth  of  this  aggregate  enlisted  two  or  three  times.  Thou- 
sands, however,  who  "jumped  the  bounty"  at  every  opportunity 
and  never  gave  a  "quid  pro  quo"  for  the  money  expended  upon 
them,  enlisted  more  frequently. 

First  Regiment — Officers,  38;  enlisted  men,  996.  Gained — 
Officers,  61 ;  enlisted  men,  302.  Died — Officers,  10 ;  enlisted 
men,  224.  Deserted— 124. 

Second  Regiment — Officers,  38;  enlisted  men,  1,006.  Gained 
— Officers,  79;  enlisted  men,  1,075.  Died — Officers,  9;  enlisted 
men,  151.  Deserted— 204. 

Third  Regiment — Officers,  38;  enlisted  men,  1,013.  Gained 
— Officers,  76;  enlisted  men,  148.  Died — Officers,  10;  enlisted 
men,  203.  Deserted— 111. 

Fourth  Regiment — Officers,  38 ;  enlisted  men,  871.  Gained 
— Officers,  99;  enlisted  men,  1,028.  Died— Officers,  7;  enlisted 
men,  250.  Deserted— 371. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  223 

Fifth  Regiment — Officers,  38 ;  enlisted  men,  823.  Gained — 
Officers,  66;  enlisted  men,  845.  Died — Officers,  13;  enlisted 
men,  201.  Deserted — 251. 

Sixth  Regiment — Officers,  38 ;  enlisted  men,  860.  Gained — 
Officers,  50 ;  enlisted  men,  537.  Died — Officers,  4 ;  enlisted  men, 
176.  Deserted— 209. 

Seventh  Regiment — Officers,  38 ;  enlisted  men,  882.  Gained 
— Officers,  108;  enlisted  men,  1,078.  Died — Officers,  13  ;  enlisted 
men,  247.  Deserted,  656. 

Eighth  Regiment — Officers,  38;  enlisted  men,  851.  Gained 
— Officers,  87;  enlisted  men,  1,819.  Died — Officers,  10;  enlisted 
men,  274.  Deserted — 416. 

Ninth  Regiment — Officers,  42;  enlisted  men,  1,115.  Gained 
— Officers,  85;  enlisted  men,  1,459.  Died — Officers,  11;  enlisted 
men,  243.  Deserted — 167. 

Tenth  Regiment — Officers,  35  ;  enlisted  men,  883.  Gained — 
Officers,  69.  Died — Officers,  5  ;  enlisted  men,  269.  Deserted — 
748. 

Eleventh  Regiment — Officers,  39 ;  enlisted  men,  940.  Gained 
— Officers,  57 ;  enlisted  men,  804.  Died — Officers,  1 1 ;  enlisted 
men,  222.  Deserted — 451. 

Twelfth  Regiment — Officers,  39;  enlisted  men,  953.  Gained 
— Officers,  37;  enlisted  men,  850.  Died — Officers,  9;  enlisted 
men,  252.  Deserted — 216. 

Thirteenth  Regiment — Officers,  38;  enlisted  men,  899. 
Gained — Officers,  57 ;  enlisted  men,  444.  Died — Officers,  3 ;  en- 
listed men,  103.  Deserted — 178. 

Fourteenth  Regiment — Officers,  39;  enlisted  men,  968. 
Gained — Officers,  47 ;  enlisted  men,  330.  Died — Officers,  8 ;  en- 
listed men,  240.  Deserted — 97. 

Fifteenth  Regiment — Officers,  38 ;  enlisted  men,  909.  Gained 
— Officers,  72;  enlisted  men,  852.  Died — Officers,  9;  enlisted 
men,  352.  Deserted— 108. 

Sixteenth  Regiment  (First  Cavalry) — Officers,  44;  enlisted 
men,  998.  Gained — Officers,  150;  enlisted  men,  2,125.  Died — 
Officers,  16 ;  enlisted  men,  282.  Deserted — 452. 

(The  First  New  Jersey  Cavalry  was  the  Sixteenth  Regiment, 
and  the  four  regiments  of  militia,  "First  Defenders,"  which  an- 
swered President  Lincoln's  first  call,  in  April,  1861,  were  num- 
bered Seventeenth,  Eighteenth,  Nineteenth  and  Twentieth  Regi- 
ments, respectively.) 

The  Twenty-first,  Twenty-second,  Twenty-third,  Twenty- 
fourth,  Twenty-fifth,  Twenty-sixth,  Twenty-seventh,  Twenty- 


224  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

eighth,  Twenty-ninth,  Thirtieth  and  Thirty-first  Regiments  were 
called  out  for  nine  months  in  1862. 

Twenty-first  Regiment:  Died — Officers,  2;  enlisted  men, 
49.  Deserted — 44. 

Twenty-second  Regiment :  Died — Officers,  1 ;  enlisted  men, 
37.  Deserted— 12. 

Twenty-third  Regiment :  Died — Officers,  5  ;  enlisted  men, 
79.  Deserted— 10. 

Twenty-fourth  Regiment :  Died — Officers,  3 ;  enlisted  men, 
89.  Deserted— 8. 

Twenty-fifth  Regiment :  Died — Officers,  1 ;  enlisted  men, 
56.  Deserted— 18. 

Twenty-sixth  Regiment :  Died — Officers,  1 ;  enlisted  men, 
35.  Deserted— 26. 

Twenty-seventh  Regiment :  Died — Officers,  1 ;  enlisted 
men,  85.  Deserted — 44. 

Twenty-eighth  Regiment:  Died — Officers,  2;  enlisted  men, 
79.  Deserted— 15. 

Twenty-ninth  Regiment:  Died — Officers,  0;  enlisted  men, 
4.  Deserted — 17. 

Thirtieth  Regiment :  Died — Officers,  2 ;  enlisted  men,  62. 
Deserted — 14. 

Thirty-first  Regiment :  Died — Officers,  0 ;  enlisted  men,  39. 
Deserted — 2. 

Thirty-second  Regiment  (Second  Cavalry) — Officers,  44 ;  en- 
listed men,  1,105.  Gained — Officers,  36;  enlisted  men,  1,715. 
Died — Officers,  3;  enlisted  men,  231.  Deserted — 724. 

Thirty-third  Regiment — Officers,  39;  enlisted  men,  902. 
Gained — Officers,  36;  enlisted  men,  1,207.  Died— Officers,  6; 
enlisted  men,  141.  Deserted — 502. 

Thirty-fourth  Regiment — Officers,  35 ;  enlisted  men,  830. 
Gained— Officers,  27;  enlisted  men,  1,401.  Died— Officers,  3; 
enlisted  men.  152.  Deserted — 728. 

Thirty-fifth  Regiment — Officers,  37;  enlisted  men,  865. 
Gained — Officers,  37 ;  enlisted  men,  967.  Died — Officers,  3  ;  en- 
listed men,  144.  Deserted — 430. 

Thirty-sixth  Regiment  (Third  Cavalry) — Officers,  47;  en- 
listed men,  1,131.  Gained— Officers,  59;  enlisted  men,  997. 
Died — Officers,  5 ;  enlisted  men,  140.  Deserted — 439. 

Thirty-seventh  Regiment  (100  days) — Officers,  35 ;  enlisted 
men,  743.  Gained — Officers,  2;  enlisted  men,  1.  Died — Officers, 
1 ;  enlisted  men,  18.  Deserted — 36. 

Thirty-eighth  Regiment  (one  year) — Officers,  58;  enlisted 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  *  225 

men,  944.     Gained — Officers,  7;  enlisted  men,  59.     Died — Offi- 
cers, 0;  enlisted  men,  11.    Deserted — 59. 

Thirty-ninth  Regiment  (one  year) — Officers,  39;  enlisted 
men,  977.  Gained — Enlisted  men,  112.  Died — Officers,  3;  en- 
listed men,  36.  Deserted — 53. 

Fortieth  Regiment  (one  year) — Officers,  37;  enlisted  men, 
984.  Gained — Officers,  9;  enlisted  men — 379.  Died — Officers, 
0;  enlisted  men,  19.  Deserted — 399. 

The  four  regiments  of  New  Jersey  Militia  (really  volun- 
teers) was  the  first  brigade  to  reach  the  National  Capital  under 
President  Lincoln's  first  call  for  75,000  men.  The  brigade,  in 
command  of  Major  General  Theodore  Runyon,  after  crossing 
the  Long  Bridge  over  the  Potomac,  on  May  24,  1861,  led  the 
advance  of  the  grand  army  in  the  direction  of  Alexandria,  and 
for  two  months  performed  the  hardest  kind  of  service  in  guard- 
ing outposts  and  in  constructing  Fort  Runyon,  the  most  exten- 
sive earthwork  put  up  for  the  defense  of  Washington  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  river.  The  men  of  the  brigade,  although  performing 
"extra  duty"  most  of  the  time  of  their  enlistment,  never  received 
any  pay  for  their  herculean  labor,  save  the  munificent  salary  of 
$11  per  month.  Most  of  the  men,  on  their  return  home  after 
the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  enlisted  in  three-year  regiments. 

The  Ninth  was  the  first  New  Jersey  Regiment  to  engage  in 
battle  with  the  enemy,  participating,  as  it  did,  with  great  bril- 
liancy at  Roanoke  Island,  on  February  8 ;  Newbern,  on  March 
14,  and  the  siege  and  capture  of  Fort  Macon,  in  April,  1862. 
This  was  anterior  to  any  general  engagement  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  to  which  all  the  eight  regiments  that  preceded  the 
Ninth  to  the  field  belonged.  It  was  the  only  New  Jersey  Regi- 
ment to  lose  two  colonels,  Allen  and  Zabriskie.  The  Ninth 
served  a  longer  period  than  any  other  New  Jersey  Regiment — 
nearly  four  years. 

The  Fifteenth  Regiment,  one  of  the  immortal  commands  of 
the  Republic,  was  the  only  New  Jersey  command  that  lost  more 
than  300  men,  the  First  New  Jersey  Cavalry  being  a  close  second. 

From  the  forty  regiments  New  Jersey  sent  into  the  field 
there  were  7,637  desertions,  exclusive  of  1,041  "not  accounted 
for."  The  Tenth  Regiment  led  this  list,  with  a  total  of  748,  the 
Thirty-fourth  being  second,  with  728. 

New  Jersey,  during  the  Civil  War,  lost  on  fields  of  battle 
218  commissioned  officers  and  6,082  enlisted  men,  nearly  as 
many,  in  the  aggregate,  as  the  state  furnished  the  Continental 
army  during  the  Revolutionary  War. 


226 


HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


DARING  FEATS  OF  UNION  SCOUTS. 

INHERE  were  thousands  of  instances  during  the  Civil  War 
where  both  officers  and  enlisted  men  vied  in  tendering 
their  services  for  perilous  enterprises  in  aid  of  their  coun- 
try's cause.  When  volunteers  were  called  for  to  render  services 
of  a  peculiarly  dangerous  character  outside  the  line  of  regular 
duty,  enlisted  men  were  invariably  selected  for  the  task,  not  that 
they  were  any  better  qualified,  perhaps,  for  the  dangerous  under- 
taking, but  rather  because  commissioned  officers,  sometimes  but 
one  with  a  company,  could  ill  be  spared  from  their  command. 

I  have  in  mind  two  instances  of  enlisted  men  being  called 
upon  to  volunteer  upon  a  mission  of  imminent  danger — no  less 
an  undertaking  than  to  enter  the  enemy's  lines  to  obtain  infor- 
mation greatly  desired  by  the  commanding  general.  If  captured 
they  knew  the  penalty  would  be  a  disgraceful  death  by  a  short 
piece  of  hemp. 

It  was  while  the  Ninth  New  Jersey  Regiment,  which  had 
been  particularly  active  in  the  spring  campaign  of  1864,  but  ter- 
ribly decimated  in  numbers  in  the  series  of  battles  in  front  of 
Drewry's  Bluff,  seven  miles  below  Richmond,  that  General  But- 
ler, commanding  the  Army  of  the  James,  asked  for  four  enlisted 
men  from  that  command  to  enter  the  Confederate  lines  in  front 
of  Petersburg,  and  act  as  scouts,  or  more  properly  speaking,  as 
•"spies,"  on  the  enemy's  movements. 

Notwithstanding  the  desperate  and  dangerous  character  of 
the  service  to  be  performed,  a  score  of  bright,  brave,  young  fel- 
lows promptly  stepped  forward  with  the  same  disposition  and 
devotion  to  country  as  actuated  the  gallant  Captain  Nathan 
Hale,  of  blessed  Revolutionary  memory,  to  do  the  general's 
bidding,  or  die,  if  need  be,  in  the  attempt.  As  but  four  men 
were  required,  the  following  were  selected: 

Privates  Marshall  Howell  and  Daniel  Johnson,  of  Company 
H,  and  Privates  James  Van  Buskirk  and  Robert  H.  White,  of 
Company  B. 

It  was  early  in  the  evening  of  May  22  that  these  four  hardy, 
brave  and  venturesome  young  men  quietly  made  their  way  out 
of  the  Union  works  to  enter,  as  it  were,  the  open  jaws  of  death. 
Howell  and  Johnson  traveled  in  one  direction — Van  Buskirk 
and  White  in  another.  The  two  former  had  proceeded  but  a 
short  distance,  however,  when  they  suddenly  ran  afoul  of  a 
strong  Confederate  picket,  and  were  fired  upon,  a  volley  of  bul- 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  227 

lets  whistling  about  them,  fairly  taking  away  their  breath.  John- 
son received  a  slight  wound  in  one  of  his  feet,  Howell  escaping 
with  the  loss  of  his  canteen,  which  was  riddled  and  emptied  of 
its  contents,  causing  him  great  suffering  from  thirst  before  he 
succeeded  in  regaining  the  Union  lines,  which  he  did  some  thirty 
hours  afterward.  Johnson,  finding  himself  no  longer  able  to 
pursue  his  researches  owing  to  his  wound,  crept  into  the  trunk 
of  a  hollow  tree,  fortunately  near  at  hand,  and,  watching  a  favor- 
able opportunity,  succeeded  in  making  his  way  back  to  camp, 
reaching  it  just  as  day  was  breaking. 

Howell,  however,  had  better  luck,  and  being  anxious  to 
secure  the  reward  the  liberal-minded  general  was  in  the  habit  of 
bestowing  upon  those  who  rendered  especially  valuable  services, 
hid  in  a  heavy  thicket  until  things  became  quiet,  when  he  cau- 
tiously continued  on  the  course  he  had  mapped  out.  This,  of 
course,  was  attended  by  the  most  imminent  danger,  as  he  was 
likely  to  meet  an  armed  Confederate  at  almost  every  step.  Final- 
ly gaining  a  position  affording  him  excellent  facilities  for  ob- 
serving the  enemy,  he  climbed  a  stout  tree  adorned  with  luxur- 
iant foliage,  and  there  ensconced  himself. 

During  the  long  day  that  followed,  Howell,  from  his  covert, 
saw  a  large  force  of  men  busily  engaged  in  repairing  the  railroad, 
recently  torn  up  by  our  troops,  and  witnessed  the  moving  forces 
beyond  Walthall,  as  well  as  the  erection  of  new  earthworks. 
Making  notes  and  rough  sketches  of  what  he  saw  and  heard, 
Howell,  suffering  intensely  from  thirst,  owing  to  the  loss  of 
water  from  his  perforated  canteen,  when  the  shades  of  evening 
fell,  descended  from  his  perch,  his  limbs  being  so  stiffened  that 
he  could  hardly  stand  upon  his  feet,  and  started  on  his  return 
for  camp,  which  he  safely  reached  without  further  adventure  wor- 
thy of  note,  as  the  scorching  sun  came  peeping  over  the  bluffs 
along  the  James  River. 

Howell  promptly  reported  to  General  Butler,  who  warmly 
greeted  him,  and  commended  his  action  by  presenting  him  with 
$500  in  beautiful,  crisp  greenbacks,  as  a  partial  return  for  the 
important  service  rendered.  General  Butler,  always  good  to 
those  who  were  faithful,  further  rewarded  Howell  with  a  fur- 
lough for  a  week,  and  promised  to  attend  his  wedding  and  dance 
at  it. 

Howell  is  still  living  at  his  home  in  Pen  Argyl,  Pa. 

James  Van  Buskirk,  for  many  years,  and  at  present,  a  resi- 
dent of  Bayonne,  recently  furnished  me  with  the  following  inter- 
esting narrative  of  the  adventure  he  and  White  had  on  this 
occasion : 


228 


HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


"White  and  I,  who  left  the  Union  outpost  together  quite 
early  in  the  evening,  heard  nothing  of  the  enemy  until  we  had 
traveled  some  considerable  distance,  when  we  became  cognizant 
of  the  near  presence  of  Confederate  pickets  along  the  line  of  the 
railroad  near  Port  Walthall,  with  which  ground  I  was  quite 
familiar,  our  regiment  having  fought  there  on  the  6th  and  7th 
of  May.  The  discovery  of  the  enemy's  pickets,  who  proved  to 
be  cavalrymen,  necessarily  made  us  wary  of  our  movements. 
White  and  I  crawled  along  upon  the  ground,  foot  by  foot,  and 
succeeded,  after  considerable  delay,  in  passing  the  first  line. 
Then  we  turned  our  course  to  the  right,  keeping  about  midway 
between  this  line  and  a  second  one  a  few  hundred  yards  in  rear. 
We  traveled  in  this  way,  slowly  and  cautiously,  for  some  three 
miles,  before  we  were  able  to  pass  around  the  left  flank  of  the 
position,  to  get  in  the  rear  of  the  Confederate  battle  line, 
stretched  out  for  a  long  distance.  In  the  course  of  our  difficult 
peregrinations  we  ran  suddenly  upon  General  Beauregard's 
headquarters,  near  which  we  lingered  for  some  time,  Micawber- 
like,  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up  that  might  prove  of  value 
to  General  Butler. 

"We  had  been  ordered  to  return  to  camp  before  daylight, 
and,  finding  that  nothing  more  was  likely  to  be  gained  by  re- 
maining where  we  were,  we  set  out  upon  our  return,  making  a 
circuit  farther  to  the  rear,  in  the  direction  of  Petersburg,  whose 
lights  we  could  plainly  distinguish.  We  gained  the  right  bank 
of  the  Appomattox  before  daylight,  and  secreted  ourselves  in 
the  woods  to  await  the  darkness  of  the  following  night,  when 
we  hoped  to  cross  and  make  our  report.  We  were  congratulat- 
ing ourselves  upon  the  good  fortune  attending  our  adventure, 
when  we  were  startled  by  the  approach  and  entrance  of  a  strong 
regiment  of  North  Carolina  cavalry  into  the  woods  in  which  we 
had  sought  refuge.  When  the  command  halted  and  the  men  dis- 
mounted, our  hopes  were  blasted,  as  we  saw  no  way  of  evading 
them.  As  the  men  quickly  overran  the  woods,  they  espied  us, 
when  we  sprang  up  and  sought  safety  in  headlong  flight.  The 
Confederates  fired  upon  us  and  started  in  pursuit,  speedily  over- 
taking us.  We  surrendered  as  gracefully  as  possible. 

"  'What  are  you  uns  doin'  heah  ?'  asked  a  young  officer, 
who  had  by  this  time  reached  us.  'We  were  out  foraging  and 
became  separated  from  our  command,'  I  replied.  'I  guess  you 
lie !'  hissed  the  officer.  'Come,  boys,  let's  hang  the Yan- 
kees.' Our  situation  now  looked  serious — not  at  all  rosy — as  in 
a  twinkling  two  or  three  cavalrymen  came  running  up  with  ropes, 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS. 


229 


taken  from  their  saddles.  Quite  a  crowd  had  gathered  by  this 
time,  and  'Bob'  and  I  began  to  feel  nervous,  especially  as  the 
gang  led  us  under  a  tree  they  considered  well  adapted  to  the 
purpose  they  had  in  view,  and  put  ropes  about  our  necks. 

"  'Hold  on  there !'  shouted  a  man  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
crowd,  and  the  next  moment  the  colonel  of  the  regiment — I 
think  his  name  was  Kennedy — stood  at  our  side.  He  ordered 
the  ropes  taken  from  our  necks,  and  questioned  us  sharply,  but 
I  guess  he  didn't  believe  what  we  told  him,  as  he  placed  us  in 
charge  of  four  of  his  men,  armed  with  sabre  and  carbine.  Soon 
after  the  surgeon  of  the  regiment  engaged  us  in  conversation, 
and  ordered  his  servant  to  serve  us  with  a  repast,  for  which  hos- 
pitable act  we  thanked  him.  He  inquired  concerning  some 
friends  in  New  Jersey  whom  'Bob'  happened  to  know,  and  said 
he  regretted  it  was  not  within  his  power  to  restore  us  our  liberty. 
About  noon  a  three-hundred  pound  shell  from  one  of  our  gun- 
boats, exploding  over  our  heads,  so  demoralized  the  cavalrymen 
that  they  had  no  appetite  for  dinner,  ready  to  be  served.  On  the 
contrary,  they  obeyed  with  alacrity  the  call  of  'Boots  and  Sad- 
dles,' and  hastily  fell  back  a  mile  or  so,  when  our  guard  escorted 
us  over  to  Beauregard's  headquarters,  where  we  were  thoroughly 
searched,  and,  I  might  add,  robbed,  as  they  relieved  us  of 
watches,  caps,  boots  and  haversacks.  General  Beauregard  came 
out  of  his  tent  and  looked  us  over,  questioning  us  sharply.  He 
was  surrounded  by  his  staff.  He  talked  nice  and  sweet  to  us  at 
first,  but,  failing  to  get  the  information  he  earnestly  sought,  he 
gave  vent  to  his  disappointment  and  anger  by  using  a  good  many 
cuss  words,  in  French  and  English,  at  the  same  time.  'Bob' 
had  to  laugh  on  hearing  the  general  talk  so  fast,  which  increased 
his  rage.  'You  were  foraging,  ah !  ah !  Veil,  you  can  forage  in 
Petersburg!'  whither  we  were  at  once  sent.  But  the  general 
forgot  to  restore  our  boots  and  other  things  he  had  allowed  his 
guards  to  strip  us  of.  We  had  to  walk  in  our  stockings.  After 
being  confined  in  Petersburg  seven  days  we  were  sent  to  Ander- 
sonville,  whose  horrors  we  endured  for  many  long  and  dreary 
months." 


230  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


"TOM"  McCORMICK'S  CLEVER  CAPTURE. 

THOMAS  McCORMICK,  a  private  in  my  company,  still 
living,  had  many  exciting  experiences  during  his  four 
years'  service.  "Tom,"  as  he  was  and  is  still  familiarly 
called,  never  shirked  any  kind  of  duty;  in  fact,  his  love  of  ad- 
venture often  impelled  him  to  volunteer  for  the  most  dangerous 
work.  "Tom"  wasn't  by  any  means  the  handsomest  man  in  the 
regiment,  General  "Ben"  Butler,  our  department  commander, 
being  a  beauty  in  comparison,  but  he  always  contrived  to  have 
his  clothing,  accoutrements  and  rifle  as  clean  and  as  bright  as 
they  could  be  made.  For  this  he  was  more  frequently  rewarded 
with  passes  than  any  other  man  in  our  command. 

The  night  of  July  8,  1864,  was  serene,  and  along  the  long 
line  of  earthworks  in  front  of  Petersburg  scarcely  a  sound  dis- 
turbed the  stillness,  although  200,000  of  the  bravest  men  in  the 
world  lay  crouching  behind  the  banks  of  dirt.  This  was  owing 
to  a  truce  that  had  been  declared  in  the  afternoon  by  the  men 
who  did  the  fighting,  of  which  they  were  heartily  tired.  Whether 
it  was  sanctioned  by  those  higher  up  was  not  known.  Suffice  it 
to  say  the  murderous  work  was  stopped  in  the  afternoon  when  a 
Christian-spirited  "Johnny"  raised  a  portion  of  his  once  white 
shirt  over  the  Confederate  works,  in  front  of  the  Second  Corps, 
and,  finding  it  respected,  sprang  upon  the  embankment  and 
shouted  to  us:  "We  uns  won't  fire,  if  you  uns  won't!"  Then  he 
bobbed  down  into  his  hole.  Word  was  quickly  passed  along  the 
line  to  the  three  corps — Second,  Fifth  and  Eighteenth — and  for 
the  time  being  peace  reigned. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  honesty  of  purpose  on  the 
part  of  the  Confederates,  as  the  moment  firing  stopped  they 
stacked  their  rifles,  removed  their  equipments  and  stretched  their 
weary  frames  upon  the  ground  to  obtain  sleep,  of  which  all  stood 
much  in  need.  There  was  now  absolute,  even  painful  quiet,  and 
some  were  silly  enough  to  imagine  the  millenium  had  arrived ; 
that  the  time  had  come  when  the  lion  and  the  lamb  could  lie 
together  in  loving  embrace. 

A  single  shot,  however,  and  how  changed  the  scene !  All 
was  animation  and  intense  excitement.  In  a  moment  the  uner- 
ring rifles  were  again  leveled,  the  two  opposing  hosts — a  moment 
ago  so  peaceful  and  happy — now  glaring  in  fierceness  upon 
each  other.  But,  hold !  What  is  that  ?  A  white  flag  borne  along 
upon  the  enemy's  breastworks,  followed  by  the  challenge : 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  231 

"Was  anyone  hurt  by  that  shot?" 

"No !"  replied  a  score  of  Union  soldiers ;  "the  bullet  struck 
this  rail." 

"Throw  that  rail  this  way !"  shouted  the  gallant  Confederate, 

"and  I'll  make  the  fool  who  fired  the  shot  carry  it  till 

dark.  You  Yanks  kept  the  bargain  that  was  made,  and  we  shall 
do  the  same  thing." 

Uttering  these  brave  words  he  emerged  from  his  works, 
approached  our  line,  picked  up  the  rail,  and,  returning  with  it  to 
his  own  line,  compelled  the  unfortunate  fellow  to  shoulder  it 
and  march  along  on  the  breastworks  till  dark,  he  being  the 
cynosure  of  all  eyes. 

It  was  after  the  shades  of  night  had  fallen  on  this  memor- 
able day  that  "Tom"  McCormick,  with  two  companions,  was 
ordered  to  go  out  of  our  works  to  a  point  about  midway  between 
the  two  lines.  Reaching  the  coveted  spot,  which  they  did  by 
crawling  upon  the  ground  to  escape  the  attention  of  the  enemy, 
the  three  men  halted,  examined  the  surroundings  as  well  as 
they  were  able  by  the  pale  and  uncertain  light  of  the  stars,  and 
secreted  themselves  behind  a  huge  stump,  whose  conformation 
was  admirably  adapted  for  the  purpose  they  had  in  view.  It 
gave  them  comparative  security  and  afforded  the  three  courage- 
ous Union  soldiers  opportunities  for  listening  to  the  "Johnnies,"' 
as  well  as  to  make  timely  discovery  of  any  movement  on  the 
part  of  the  Confederates. 

McCormick  and  his  companions  frequently  came  near  be- 
traying themselves,  owing  to  a  disposition  to  laugh  at  the  wit- 
ticisms of  the  unsuspecting  Confederates.  But  midnight  came 
at  length,  and  with  it  all  sounds  ceased — the  stillness  that  fol- 
lowed being  painful.  This  caused  McCormick  to  increase  his 
vigilance,  which  was  at  length  rewarded  by  the  discovery  of 
certain  signs  which  pointed  to  some  movement  on  the  part  of 
the  enemy.  With  his  foresight,  sharpened  by  years  of  war  and 
constant  active  service,  he  enjoined  his  companions  not  to  move 
nor  fire  a  rifle  without  his  command.  The  sky,  thickly  studded1 
with  bright  and  beaming  stars,  rendered  objects  more  or  less 
distinct,  according  to  distance. 

Hark !  Discovering  three  figures  emerging  silently  and 
cautiously  from  a  Confederate  embrasure,  McCormick's  heart 
pulsates  quickly  as  he  sees  them  stealthily  advancing  toward 
his  covert.  Keeping  his  two  blue  criss-cross  eyes  intently  fas- 
tened upon  the  party,  slowly  yet  not  the  less  surely  approach- 
ing, "Tom"  and  his  tried  companions  clasped  their  trusty  rifles 


232  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

more  firmly,  if  possible,  determined  to  thwart  the  designs  of  the 
trio,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  As  "Tom,"  actuated  by  motives  of 
self-preservation,  thinking  the  party  had  advanced  quite  far 
enough,  was  about  to  halt  the  Confederates,  and  demand  their 
surrender,  they  stopped  of  their  own  accord,  and  talked  in  low 
monotones  so  long  that  the  three  Union  pickets  began  to  imag- 
ine that  the  stump  behind  which  they  were  crouching  was  their 
objective  point.  "Tom"  was  at  a  loss  for  a  plan  of  procedure. 
It  would  have  been  easy  for  him  and  his  comrades  to  drop  the 
unsuspecting  Confederates  in  their  tracks,  but  a  disposition 
which  ever  characterized  McCormick  to  show  fair  play,  saved 
their  lives. 

The  anxiety  of  the  Union  soldiers  is  only  relieved  when  one 
of  the  Southerners  is  seen  to  move  off  to  the  right — his  two 
companions  remaining  where  they  had  halted.  Bidding  his 
"bunkies"  to  remain  and  watch  the  two  Confederates,  "Tom," 
with  the  eye  of  an  eagle,  and  the  step  of  the  feline  creation,  fol- 
lowed the  one  who  was  making  his  way  to  the  works  of  the 
Union  army,  keeping  as  close  as  was  consistent  with  the  plan 
he  had  in  view. 

He  was  familiar  with  every  inch  of  the  ground,  which  was 
of  immeasurable  advantage  to  him.  The  "Johnny  Reb,"  with  the 
utmost  wariness,  halted  frequently  to  satisfy  himself  that  his  path 
was  clear,  as  well  as  to  more  clearly  scan  our  works,  which  he 
did  with  a  large  glass.  This  action  convinced  McCormick  that 
the  game  he  was  trailing  was  of  no  mean  quality.  Perhaps  it 
was  Longstreet;  maybe  it  was  General  Lee  himself.  Whoever 
he  should  prove  to  be  it  was  worth  risking  much  to  capture  or 
— kill,  and  one  or  the  other  of  these  alternatives  "Tom"  was 
now  fully  determined  upon. 

Without  really  knowing  it,  McCormick  at  length  found  him- 
self almost  beside  the  object  of  his  solicitude  and  attention,  and 
on  seeing  the  Confederate  gazing  upon  him  with  basilisk  eyes 
(so  they  appeared  to  my  friend),  he  felt  that  the  tug-of-war  was 
at  hand. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  follow  me?"  asked  the  Confederate. 
"Go  back  to  your  post  and  wait  as  I  ordered."  These  orders 
convinced  McCormick  that  he  had  been  mistaken  for  one  of  the 
Confederates  who  had  come  out  of  the  works.  The  brave  Yan- 
kee picket  regarded  this  revelation  as  a  timely  interposition  of 
Providence,  and  governed  himself  accordingly,  but  he  paid  no 
heed  to  the  command  given  him.  This  disobedience  enraged 
the  Confederate,  who  came  near  betraying  himself  as  he  fairly 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  233 

hissed  with  his  closed  teeth :  "You  hound !  Go  back, 

or  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  your  thick  skull." 

McCormick,  with  imperturbability,  and  supreme  indiffer- 
ence to  the  formidable  injunction,  merely  took  an  erect  attitude 
and  placing  the  muzzle  of  his  faithful  Springfield  rifle  within  a 
yard  of  the  Southerner's  body,  ordered  him  to  face  about  and 
march  straight  for  the  Union  works.  The  Confederate's  revolver 
dropped  from  his  nervous  hand,  his  face  turning  pale  as  death. 
A  green  and  ashy  hue,  something  beyond  the  tint  of  death  itself, 
seemed  to  spread  over  his  apparently  handsome  features.  His 
eyes  opened  wide,  and  his  jaw  dropped,  and  for  a  moment 
"Tom"  thought  he  must  have  fallen  to  the  ground,  so  terrible 
was  his  agony  of  mind. 

Seeing  his  utter  helplessness,  he  accepted  "Tom's"  invita- 
tion, and  preceded  him  into  our  works,  soon  after  being  intro- 
duced to  Colonel  James  Stewart,  Jr.,  of  the  Ninth. 

Next  morning  "Tom"  took  his  prisoner  over  to  General 
Butler's  headquarters.  He  proved  to  be  a  major  of  engineers  on 
General  Lee's  staff.  McCormick  was  warmly  praised  by  the 
general  for  his  clever  bit  of  work,  and  rewarded  with  a  ten-dollar 
greenback  and  a  furlough  for  a  week.  The  story  of  the  capture 
went  quickly  through  our  corps,  "Tom"  being  regarded  by  all 
as  a  brave  and  worthy  soldier  of  the  Union,  in  defense  of  which 
he  gave  four  of  the  best  years  of  his  life. 


WAR  RELICS  GIVEN  TO  UNION  COUNTY. 

UPON  the  completion  of  Union  County's  half-million  dol- 
lar court  house  in  1906,  the  board  of  chosen  freeholders 

expressed  a  desire  to  possess  and  care  for  the  many 
Civil  War  relics  gathered  by  the  Elizabeth  Veteran 
Zouaves  during  the  conflict.  The  Zouaves,  desiring  their  preser- 
vation, together  with  a  beautiful  silken  banner  given  them  in 
San  Francisco,  gladly  complied  with  the  courteous  request,  and 
the  articles  were  deposited  within  handsome  oak  cases  in  the 
rotunda  of  the  magnificent  building.  In  April,  1906,  General 
Drake,  in  presenting  four  flags  to  the  county,  said  to  the  free- 
holders, assembled  in  the  court  room : 
Mr.  Director  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Board  of  Chosen 

Freeholders : 

To-day,  on  the  eve  of  the  forty-sixth  anniversary  of  the 
bursting  forth  of  a  fierce  internecine  war  that  lasted  four  terrible 


234  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

years,  I  have  great  satisfaction  in  delivering  into  your  keeping 
for  preservation  by  Union  County,  whose  official  representatives 
you  are,  these  sheaves  of  the  triumph  of  the  Union  cause. 

These  flags,  now  mere  fragments,  torn  and  battle-stained, 
speak  more  eloquently  than  any  words  I  am  able  to  command. 

When  these  precious  relics  were  presented  to  me  in  the  long 
ago,  while  then  somewhat  torn  and  tattered,  they  were  more 
perfect  in  shape  and  brighter  in  color,  but  their  display  in  the 
streets  of  nearly  every  prominent  American  city,  whither  they 
have  been  proudly  borne  by  the  Veteran  Zouaves  of  this  cityv 
in  whose  custody  I  had  temporarily  placed  them,  and  the  desire 
of  many  persons  to  secure  pieces  of  the  sacred  woof,  has  reduced 
their  once  splendid  proportions  to  their  present  fragmentary 
condition. 

The  shred  of  once  white  bunting,  upon  which  is  woven 
"Kearny's  Patch,"  as  it  was  called  (afterwards  adopted  as  the 
badge  of  the  Sixth  Army  Corps),  the  first  distinguishing  emblem 
ever  designed  or  recognized  by  the  gallant  men  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  described  by  an  eminent  writer  as  an  organization 
"inflexible  of  purpose,  insensible  to  suffering,  inured  to  fatigue, 
and  reckless  of  danger,"  was  ever  where  the  intrepid  General 
Philip  Kearny's  plume  beckoned  the  way  from  Williamsburg  to 
Chantilly,  where  the  precious  life's  blood  of  that  hero  of  two 
wars  crimsoned  the  ground  within  the  lines  of  a  courageous  and 
generous-hearted  enemy. 

These  remnants  of  the  colors  of  the  Fourth  United  States 
Infantry  waved  in  the  forefront  at  Fredericksburg,  Antietam, 
Chancellorville,  Gettysburg,  and  were  with  Grant  when  he  swept 
through  the  Wilderness. 

The  silken  banner,  a  beautiful  work  of  Oriental  art,  costing 
more  than  one  thousand  dollars,  was  presented  to  the  Veteran 
Zouaves  of  this  city  by  the  George  H.  Thomas  Veteran  Guard 
of  San  Francisco,  California,  while  guests  of  that  famous  com- 
mand in  1886. 

These  relics  of  the  greatest  fratricidal  conflict  the  world 
has  ever  known,  beside  which  all  other  contests  were  pigmies 
in  comparison,  which  I  to-day  deliver  into  your  custody,  lent  the 
luster  of  their  stars  to  the  gloom  of  despair,  as  well  as  to  joy  in 
the  hour  of  victory,  grandly  borne  as  they  were  by  brave  hands 
forward  through  smoke  and  carnage,  planting  them  at  last,  after 
four  long  and  terrible  years,  on  the  edge  of  the  spring  line  at 
Appomattox. 

Four   years   of   the   lives   of   our   country's    defenders   are 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  235 

wrought  into  their  faded  woof.  These  flags  are  the  bond  be- 
tween the  great  army  of  the  dead  and  the  army  of  the  living; 
and  they  are  precious  to  you,  as  to  us,  because  they  thus  remind 
us  and  reunite  us  with  the  named  and  unnamed  heroes  who  fell 
fighting  under  them  for  the  humane  principle  of  all  right  gov- 
ernment that  the  will  of  the  majority  shall  be  supreme. 

Before  the  Civil  War,  through  which  these  shreds  were  car- 
ried aloft  to  victory  through  bellowing  cannon  fire,  few  of  our 
people  really  realized  the  significance  of  our  country's  standard. 
Yet  every  soldier  who  volunteered  to  uphold  and  defend  it 
knew  full  well  its  meaning.  There  was  to  them  in  the  flag  some- 
thing more  eloquent  than  the  orator's  tongue,  more  beautiful 
than  the  painter's  brush.  Some  present  here  this  afternoon  can 
recall  the  time  when  the  flag  of  this  now  bright  and  prosperous 
land  was  not  spoken  of  with  the  reverence  which  is  now  ac- 
corded to  it.  But  by  and  by  that  flag  did  come  to  mean  some- 
thing, and  if  to-day  another  struggle  should  come  in  which  its 
honor  was  threatened,  hundreds  of  thousands  of  patriotic  citizens 
would  rally  to  its  support  just  as  they  did  forty-six  years  ago, 
when,  assailed  at  Sumter,  after  passing  through  a  fearful  baptism 
of  fire  for  thirty-six  hours,  it  went  down  in  glory,  its  captors 
reverently  saluting  it. 

Our  glorious  banner  signifies  that  there  were  thousands  of 
fathers  and  mothers,  sisters  and  sweethearts,  who  were  willing 
to  sacrifice  everything  that  the  heart  holds  dear  to  them  for 
that  one  symbol.  Not  only  does  it  represent  the  sentiment  of 
patriotism,  but  it  signifies  liberty,  equality  and  freedom  to  all. 
And  if  the  time  should  ever  come  when  new  enemies  shall  spring 
up  and  try  to  overthrow  it,  then  there  will  be  people  who  will 
stand  in  the  breach  ready  to  follow  it  and  fight  for  it  just  as  they 
did  in  the  awful  days  of  1861-1865. 

I  recall  instances  of  unparalleled  bravery  exhibited  in  the 
war  for  the  Union,  where  no  less  than  five  men  in  one  regiment, 
who  loved  our  flag  above  all  things  else,  sacrificed  their  lives, 
one  after  another,  in  defending  our  beautiful  and  priceless 
standard  from  the  foe.  It  was  instances  of  this  character  that 
added  luster  to  the  American  soldier,  and  established  for  him  a 
reputation  for  courage  and  intrepidity  never  attained  by  any 
other.  It  was  because  of  this  inborn  heroism  that  our  unsullied 
flag  now  floats  upon  honestly-gained  but  useless  and  costly  pos- 
sessions in  a  far-off  land,  however  much  we  may  lament  the  fact, 
and  it  is  because  of  this  that  America's  glorious  sun  of  peace  is 
now  in  the  zenith,  high  up  under  the  dome  of  the  Union,  pre- 


236  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

served  by  the  sacrifices  of  its  gallant  defenders,  its  refulgent  rays 
illuminating  a  happy  and  prosperous  land,  with  but  one  flag, 
from  whose  ethereal  blue  no  star  was  lost  in  Disunion's  eternal 
night  of  political  darkness. 

These  bullet-scarred  and  stained  shreds  of  silk  and  bunting 
in  themselves  are  of  little  intrinsic  worth.  They  are  now  so  frail 
that  if  unfolded  the  gentlest  breeze  would  scatter  their  frag- 
ments. What  gives  them  a  priceless  value  is  because  of  the 
sacrifices  and  associations  that  cluster  around  them.  But  chiefly 
are  they  precious  to  you  and  to  all  of  us  because  they  are  the 
emblems  of  nationality — the  symbols  of  governmental  power. 
Mute  though  they  be,  they  appeal  to  us  in  language  more  forci- 
ble than  human  utterance. 

Each  rent  and  shred  of  these  banners  has  a  voice  which 
to-day  says  to  us,  and  to  all  men,  although  it  cost  privation  and 
suffering,  exposure  and  even  death  itself,  come  what  may,  this 
government  must  be  maintained  in  its  integrity,  whether  its 
assailants  come  from  without  or  within,  though  millions  of  lives 
and  billions  of  treasure  be  the  sacrifice,  the  Union  shall  be 
preserved. 

An  ancient  history  relates  that  the  Romans  erected  monu- 
ments upon  hills  to  celebrate  the  deeds  of  their  heroes,  and  that 
the  parents  of  Roman  youth,  in  bidding  them  study  the  inscrip- 
tions carved  in  enduring  marble,  told  that  they,  too,  would  have 
monuments  erected  to  their  memory,  and  the  records  of  their 
lives  carved  upon  them  if  they  emulated  the  virtues  and  practices 
of  those  who  have  gone  before. 

And  so,  Mr.  Director  and  gentlemen,  I  trust  will  these  tat- 
tered flags,  now  nearly  half  a  century  old,  be  an  inspiration  to 
those  who  come  after  us — an  incentive  for  all  to  love  our  coun- 
try, and  manfully  defend  its  beneficent  institutions. 


UNDER  TWO  FLAGS. 

ON  a  farm  near  Castile  San  Juan,  Italy,  early  in  the  year 
1835,  Camilla  Bragga,  for  many  years  a  highly  respected 
citizen  of  Elizabeth,  first  saw  the  light  of  day.     For 
more  than  thirty  years  he  has  been  a  faithful  and  popular  mem- 
ber of  the  Veteran  Zouaves,  and  the  other  evening  at  a  gather- 
ing of  the  command,  he  was  induced  to  tell  some  of  his  experi- 
ences  in   the   Italian    (or   Sardinian)   and   American   volunteer 
armies. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  237 

With  a  spirit  for  adventure  rather  than  any  desire  to  take 
part  in  the  Crimean  war  against  the  Russians,  at  the  age  of 
twenty  years  he  enlisted  in  the  tenth  company,  Third  Regi- 
ment, Italian  Legion,  under  the  gallant  General  Delia  Mar- 
mora, and  took  part  in  all  the  operations  of  that  command  about 
Sebastopol. 

"It  was  on  a  beautiful  Sunday  in  1855,  after  a  terrific  bom- 
bardment of  three  days  and  nights,"  said  Sergeant  Bragga, 
"that  we  discovered  Sebastopol  to  be  on  fire,  and  the  Russians  in 
full  retreat.  The  tremendous  explosions  which  shook  the  earth 
were  like  so  many  earthquakes.  Wandering  fires  gleamed 
through  the  streets  and  outskirts  of  the  town,  point  after  point 
becoming  alight,  making  a  wierd  spectacle;  the  flames  shone 
out  of  the  windows  of  the  houses ;  rows  of  mansions  caught  and 
were  rapidly  consumed,  and  ere  daybreak  next  morning  the  town 
of  Sebastopol,  the  fine  and  stately  mistress  of  the  Euxine,  on 
which  we  had  so  long  and  often  turned  wistful  and  longing 
eyes,  was  in  a  consuming  blaze  from  the  glittering  sea  to  the 
dockyard.  During  the  night  Fort  Alexander  blew  up  with  a 
stupendous  crash  that  made  the  very  earth  reel.  Numerous 
explosions  followed  in  quick  succession  at  sunrise,  including  that 
of  the  Redan,  under  whose  debris  was  buried  many  of  both 
armies. 

"When  Fort  Alexander  and  the  grand  magazine  blew  up 
the  rush  of  black  smoke,  of  gray  and  white  vapor,  of  masses  of 
stone,  beams,  timber,  masonry,  into  the  air  was  appalling,  be- 
side which,  I  might  say,  the  mine  explosion  in  front  of  Peters- 
burg in  the  summer  of  1864,  which  many  of  us  saw,  was  insigni- 
ficant. Following  came  an  awful  roar  of  a  great  bombardment ; 
it  was  a  magazine  of  shells  blown  high  in  the  air,  and  exploding 
like  some  gigantic  pyrotechnic  display  in  the  sky,  the  effect  of 
the  innumerable  flashes  of  fire  twirling  high  up  in  the  column  of 
dark  smoke  over  the  long-doomed  town,  and  then  changing  as 
rapidly  into  as  many  balls  of  white  smoke  like  little  clouds. 

"All  this  time  the  Russians  were  marching  with  sullen  tramp 
across  the  bridge,  and  boats  were  carrying  off  materials  from 
the  town,  or  bearing  men  to  the  south  side  to  complete  the  work 
of  destruction  and  renew  the  fires  of  hidden  mines,  or  light  up 
untouched  houses.  The  Russians  had  the  same  determination 
to  destroy  Sebastopol  as  their  fathers  had  when  they  applied 
the  torch  to  Moscow,  which  ruined  Napoleon  and  ultimately 
destroyed  his  great  army. 

"As  soon  as  it  became  light  we  began  to  steal  from  our 


238  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

trenches  into  the  burning  town,  undismayed  by  the  roaring 
flames,  by  the  fire  of  a  lurking  enemy,  or  the  shots  which  now 
and  then  came  from  their  cannon,  to  prevent  straggling  and 
prevent  us  from  extinguishing  the  flames.  But  little  things  like 
that  didn't  disturb  us  or  stop  our  advance,  as  on  we  went — 
French  and  Italians,  red  breeches  and  blue  breeches,  fez  and  kepi, 
side  by  side — until  finally  reaching  the  houses,  we  entered  to 
secure  plunder — the  Russian  relics  we  were  fortunate  enough  to 
obtain  finding  a  ready  and  profitable  market  in  camp. 

"The  scenes  I  beheld  after  entering  the  Malakoff  were  awful, 
beyond  my  powers  to  describe,  and  my  heart  sank  as  I  gazed 
upon  the  devastation  and  resulting  carnage.  I  shall  never  recall 
the  memory  of  Malakoff  with  any  but  feelings  of  loathing  and 
horror;  for  round  about  me  lay  thousands  of  dead  Russians. 
Many  of  the  wounded  lay  there,  and  their  low,  dull  moans  of 
mortal  agony  struck  with  terrible  distinctness  upon  my  young 
years ;  or,  worse  still,  the  hoarse,  gurgling  cry  and  vehement 
struggles  of  those  who  were  convulsed  before  death  relieved 
them  of  suffering.  With  the  fall  of  the  Malakoff  fell  Sebastopol. 
In  a  bomb  proof  I  saw  a  music  book  with  a  woman's  name  in  it, 
and  a  canary  bird  and  a  vase  of  flowers  outside  the  entrance." 

After  relighting  a  cigar,  Sergeant  Bragga  told  of  his  com- 
ing to  this  country,  of  his  settlement  in  Elizabeth  immediately 
after  his  discharge  from  the  Italian  army,  of  his  enlistment  in  the 
Forty-eighth  New  York  Volunteers,  and  of  his  three  years'  ser- 
vice in  the  Union  army.  At  the  battle  of  Deep  Bottom,  Va., 
August  16,  1864,  Sergeant  Bragga  fell  desperately  wounded, 
shot  through  the  side  and  arm,  and,  unable  to  escape,  became 
a  prisoner  of  war,  and  was  conveyed  to  Libby  Prison  in  Rich- 
mond. 

As  he  was  being  borne  in  a  semi-conscious  state  into  the 
dingy-looking  building  he  overheard  a  Confederate  soldier, 
standing  guard  at  the  door  of  the  hospital,  remark  in  the  Italian 

language:  "Here's  another  Yankee  for  us  to  plant!" 

Bragga,  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood,  suffering  intense  pains, 
and  half  asleep,  opened  his  weary  eyes  on  hearing  the  rude 
words,  and  retorted  hotly  in  the  same  language:  "You'll  be 
planted  first  if  you  go  to  the  front,  where  you  ought  to  be,  you 
coward !" 

During  the  evening,  the  Italian  Confederate,  having  been 
relieved  from  duty,  with  a  view  of  learning  more  about  his  plucky 
fellow-countryman,  entered  the  hospital  and  making  his  way  to 
the  spot  where  Bragga  was  lying  uncomfortably  on  the  floor,  he 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  239 

kneeled  down  and  peering  intently  into  his  face,  suddenly  over- 
come by  emotion,  became  violently  agitated.  Seizing  Bragga's 
hand  he  pathetically  exclaimed :  "Bragga,  my  dear  Camilla,  don't 
you  remember  me — Guiseppe  Montazzi — your  bunkie  in  the 
Sardinian  Legion  ?  Speak,  I  adjure  you,  and  forgive  me  for  not 
recognizing  you  as  you  were  brought  in  here!" 

The  agitated  Italian  Confederate,  on  finding  himself  recog- 
nized by  his  former  companion-in-arms,  gave  vent  to  the  great 
joy  he  felt,  copious  tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks,  attesting 
relief  of  mind  for  the  insult  he  had  given  a  helpless  and  suffering 
prisoner  of  war. 

The  friendship  that  had  existed  between  these  two  soldiers, 
now  bitterly  arrayed  against  each  other,  since  early  boyhood, 
thus  bloomed  anew  in  a  vile  prison  far  from  the  land  of  their 
nativity.  No  surveyed  chart,  no  national  boundary  line,  no 
rugged  mountain,  no  wide  sea  put  a  limit  to  the  growth  of 
friendship.  Wherever  it  is  watered  by  the  dews  of  affection 
and  kindness,  there  you  may  be  sure  to  find  it.  Its  all-powerful 
influence  hovers  o'er  contending  armies  and  unites  the  deadliest 
foes  in  the  closest  bonds  of  sympathy.  Friendship  and  comrade- 
ship can  only  be  found  to  bloom  in  the  soil  of  a  noble  and  self- 
sacrificing  heart ;  there  it  has  a  perennial  summer,  a  never-ending 
season  of  felicity  and  joy  to  its  happy  possessor,  casting  a  thou- 
sand rays  of  love  and  hope  to  all  around,  as  it  did  in  the  case  of 
my  imprisoned  comrade. 

And  thus,  in  the  United  States,  during  a  fearful  internecine 
war,  these  two  Italian  soldiers,  serving  under  different  flags,  and 
who,  side  by  side,  had  stormed  Russian  embattlements,  after 
years  of  separation,  found  themselves  reunited  under  strange 
and  painful  circumstances. 

I  will  leave  the  reader  to  imagine,  if  possible,  the  joy  these 
two  warriors  experienced  on  this  occasion,  and  will  bring  my 
story  to  a  close  by  stating  that  the  Italian-Confederate  did  much 
to  alleviate  his  former  comrade's  condition,  relieving  his  dis- 
tresses by  many  kind  acts,  and  finally  induced  the  Confederate 
surgeon  in  charge  of  the  hospital  to  secure  a  speedy  special 
exchange  for  his  comrade  of  old. 


240  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


JERSEY  BATTERY  PREVENTED  RIOT. 

DURING  the  war  for  the  Union  the  young  men  of  the 
North,  serving  in  the  army  and  navy,  had  two  deter- 
mined foes — one  constantly  in  their  front,  the  brave 
Southern  soldier — the  other  nestled  at  home  among  their  friends, 
ever  ready  to  use  the  assassin's  knife  in  the  dark.  The  latter, 
too  cowardly  to  prove  their  convictions  on  the  battle-field,  re- 
mained at  home  or  jumped  over  into  Canada  to  escape  military 
service.  They  were  of  the  snake  species,  and  commonly  called 
"Copperheads."  Often  and  again  have  I  heard  my  comrades 
express  the  fervent  wish  that  they  might  be  ordered  North  to 
wipe  out  the  nest  of  venomous  creatures  who  annoyed  our 
friends  by  giving  utterance  to  Southern  sentiments. 

During  the  great  struggle  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union 
many  incidents  relating  to  army  life  never  "got  into  the  papers," 
and  that  part  of  our  country's  history  is  only  treasured  by  the 
boys  who  took  an  active  part  in  the  contest.  As  it  is  not  gener- 
ally known  that  the  Fourth  New  Jersey  Battery  of  Light  Artil- 
lery, commanded  at  the  time  by  Lieutenant  James  B.  Morris,  a 
Trenton  compositor,  and  one  of  the  most  promising  and  brilliant 
young  soldiers  in  the  army,  was  detached  from  the  Army  of  the 
James  early  in  November,  1864,  and  despatched  on  a  steamer  to 
New  York  City,  to  be  in  readiness  to  assist  in  quelling  any  dis- 
order that  the  adherents  of  the  South  and  their  political  ally, 
George  B.  McClellan,  Democratic  candidate  for  President 
against  Abraham  Lincoln,  might  cause  on  election  day,  in  order 
to  show  their  sympathy  for  the  Southern  cause,  I  will  relate  the 
circumstance,  as  told  by  one  of  the  boys,  and  show  that  to  this 
gallant  body  of  men  much  credit  is  due  for  the  services  rendered 
by  the  artillerymen  on  that  occasion. 

"It  was  about  10  o'clock  on  the  night  of  November  2,  1864, 
while  occupying  a  dangerous  position  near  Fort  Harrison,  that 
Lieutenant  Morris  roused  us  from  the  first  sleep  we  had  had  in 
several  nights,  and  ordered  us  to  pack  up  quickly,  and  be  very 
quiet  about  it.  In  less  than  two  hours  afterward  we  were  on 
the  move  in  Egyptian  darkness,  no  lights  being  allowed,  and 
not  a  star  shining  owing  to  a  heavy  rainstorm  which  prevailed. 

"Daylight  found  us  about  a  mile  from  Bermuda  Hundred — 
our  clothing  saturated  and  our  stomachs  empty.  Just  how  we 
managed  to  reach  that  point  was  a  mystery  to  all  except  the  gal- 
lant Morris,  who  rode  at  our  head.  In  the  Stygian  darkness 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  241 

we  were  compelled  to  make  our  way  through  many  rough  places, 
and  through  timber  sections  where  the  axles  of  our  guns  and 
caissons  blazed  the  trees  on  either  side.  The  elements — rain 
and  wind — facilitated  our  march ;  that  is,  prevented  the  enemy 
from  hearing  the  movement,  which,  under  other  conditions  of 
atmosphere,  might  have  been  revealed  to  them,  and  made  things 
more  unpleasant  for  us. 

"Exposed  to  all  the  fury  of  the  storm  we  were  compelled  to 
remain  in  the  woods  until  12  o'clock  the  following  night,  when 
we  marched  to  the  dock  at  Bermuda  Hundred  and  soon  stowed 
ourselves  and  traps  on  a  transport,  falling  asleep  at  once.  We 
had  a  pleasant  sail,  but  no  knowledge  of  our  destination  until 
we  passed  through  the  Narrows,  and  entered  New  York  Bay, 
soon  after  tying  up  at  the  Atlantic  docks  at  Brooklyn.  We  won- 
dered what  it  all  meant,  and  then  we  learned  that  we  were  likely 
to  have  a  chance  at  the  same  fellows  who  rioted  in  New  York 
City  the  previous  year — those  same  fellows  whom  Governor 
Horatio  Seymour  called  his  'friends.' 

"During  the  night  of  November  7  our  battery  was  put  on 
board  the  ferryboat  Peconic,  and  bright  and  early  the  next 
morning  we  were  ready  to  land  anywhere  in  the  city  of  New 
York  and  open  fire  in  just  one  minute,  which  we  would  very 
much  have  liked  to  do  had  there  been  any  disorder  among  those 
Democratic  patriots.  We  remained  on  the  Peconic  for  ninety-six 
hours,  with  no  chance  to  show  Horatio's  'friends'  what  Jersey 
artillerists  could  do  in  the  way  of  handling  the  iron  dogs  of  war. 

"Bluff  old  General  'Ben'  Butler  was  with  us,  too,  and  15,000 
brave  boys  in  blue  to  back  him.  He  wouldn't  have  hesitated  an 
instant  about  sweeping  New  York's  streets  if  occasion  had 
arisen.  Our  presence  saved  the  town  from  terrible  punishment. 
The  would-be  rioters  knew  we  were  there  for  business,  and  that 
we  would  have  performed  in  a  manner  creditable  to  our  com- 
mand." 

YOUNG  LIEUTENANT  SAVED  THE  ARMY. 

THE  state  of  New  Jersey  was  never  represented  on  the  battle- 
fields of  the  American  republic  more  worthily,  or  by  a 
more  intelligent,  skilful  or  brilliant  soldier  than  Major 
Rufus  King. 

It  was  during  the  inglorious  retreat  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  from  in  front  of  Richmond  to  Harrison's  Landing  on 
the  James  River,  in  1862,  that  Major  King,  then  a  first  lieu- 


242  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

tenant  in  the  Fourth  United  States  Artillery,  had  an  opportunity 
to  show  the  stuff  of  which  heroes  are  made. 

It  was  solely  through  Lieutenant  King's  well-directed  and 
herculean  efforts  that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  sorely  pressed 
by  a  jubilant  and  aggressive  enemy,  was  saved  from  the  gravest 
disaster,  if  not  capture,  and  for  his  brilliant  services  on  this  occa- 
sion, meriting  the  highest  commendation  of  his  superior  officers, 
I  subsequently  had  the  pleasure  and  honor  of  securing  for  him  a 
Congressional  Medal  of  Honor,  through  the  courtesy  of  my  old 
companion-in-arms,  the  late  United  States  Senator  William  J. 
Sewell,  who  was  familiar  with  Lieutenant  King's  military  history. 

The  retreat  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  from  the  very  door 
of  the  Confederate  capital,  to  which  it  had  been  successfully  led 
by  Hooker,  Kearny  and  Hancock,  only  to  be  turned  back  by  Mc- 
Clellan,  always  in  a  place  of  safety  in  the  rear,  was  covered  by 
Batteries  A  and  C,  Fourth  United  States  Artillery,  commanded 
by  Captain  George  Hazard,  a  gallant  veteran  of  the  Mexican  War, 
and  Richardson's  division  of  Sumner's  Corps.  This  small  force 
•was  closely  and  fiercely  pursued  from  Savage  Station  to  White 
Oak  Swamp,  where  it  narrowly  escaped  capture  by  Stonewall 
Jackson's  famous  and  ever-dreaded  command.  The  fighting  be- 
tween these  points  had  been  constant,  terrible,  and  with  unexam- 
pled implacability. 

When  the  division  and  batteries  reached  the  river  running 
through  the  swamp  early  on  the  morning  of  June  30,  it  was  dis- 
covered with  dismay  that  the  bridge  over  which  the  commands 
expected  to  pass  had  been  burned  during  the  night  by  our  own 
army  after  gaining  the  other  side,  the  commander  of  the  last 
corps  crossing  the  structure  being  under  the  impression  that  his 
was  the  last  force  in  the  disordered  column. 

General  Richardson,  on  finally  effecting  a  crossing  of  his 
command  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  stream,  a  task  of  great  diffi- 
culty, owing  to  the  deadly  fire  of  the  exultant  Confederates,  who 
had  been  confident  of  capturing  the  force,  ordered  Captain 
Hazard's  two  batteries,  consisting  of  eight  guns  and  about  175 
men,  to  take  position  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  overlooking  the 
swamp,  and  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  crossing.  Ten  minutes 
after  this  the  noble  Hazard,  mortally  wounded,  after  telling  Lieu- 
tenant King  to  take  command  of  the  artillery,  and  "fight  for- 
ever," was  carried  from  the  field. 

Lieutenant  King,  appointed  to  the  regular  artillery  from 
civil  life  shortly  after  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  had  thoroughly 
mastered  his  new  profession,  and  was  abundantly  qualified  for 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  243 

the  responsible  duties  thus  suddenly  thrown  upon  him,  and  he 
more  than  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  his  men,  all  of  whom  had, 
long  since,  learned  to  love  him  for  his  noble  qualities  of  heart 
and  mind. 

Lieutenant  King  had  scarcely  assumed  command  when  he 
found  himself  ruthlessly  and  violently  assailed  by  some  thirty 
pieces  of  artillery  which  Stonewall  Jackson  had  concentrated  in 
an  advantageous  position,  and  from  which  he  felt  sure  he  would 
be  able  to  dislodge  the  small  band  of  Unionists,  and  enable  him 
to  build  a  bridge,  effect  a  crossing,  render  more  complete  the 
defeat  of  McClellan's  illy-managed  forces,  and  secure  immense 
stores  on  the  opposite  bank,  which  he  believed  had  been  aban- 
doned by  the  Union  army  in  its  flight. 

The  unremitting  fire  from  the  Confederate  batteries  was 
frightful,  but  King's  guns  were  so  accurate  in  their  range  and 
so  destructive  in  their  operation  that  it  soon  became  impossible 
for  the  enemy's  engineers  and  bridge  builders  to  further  pursue 
their  dangerous  calling,  which  they  reluctantly  abandoned.  The 
fire  from  Jackson's  artillery  at  one  time  was  so  heavy  and 
destructive  that  King's  cannoneers  and  drivers  were  shot  down, 
and  horses  killed  in  such  numbers  that  some  of  the  non-com- 
missioned officers,  fearing  to  lose  one  of  their  pet  pieces,  took  it 
upon  themselves  to  withdraw  it.  Lieutenant  King,  although 
very  busy  in  looking  after  his  guns,  men  and  horses,  happening 
to  see  the  men  going  to  the  rear  with  the  piece,  madly  galloped 
in  pursuit,  and  in  a  towering  rage,  compelled  the  men  to  return 
the  gun  to  the  firing  line,  which  they  immediately  did.  Had  they 
hesitated  an  instant,  King  would  have  emptied  his  big  seven- 
shooter  into  as  many  breasts. 

Throughout  that  terribly  hot  and  live-long  day,  and  far  into 
the  sultry  night,  Lieutenant  King  and  his  brave  fellows,  keenly 
feeling  their  awful  responsibility,  a  matter  wherein  the  safety  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  perhaps  of  the  Nation  itself,  was  at 
stake,  although  greatly  fatigued  by  exhausting  labors,  continued 
to  work  their  death-dealing  instruments,  pouring  destruction 
into  the  ranks  of  the  foe,  thus  keeping  it  well  at  bay. 

It  was  only  when  darkness  robed  the  earth  that  they  were 
enabled  to  rest  from  their  awful  work.  They  were  worn  out  with 
fatigue;  they  were  hungry,  and  greatly  felt  the  want  of  sleep. 
While  some  were  enamored  of  glory,  and  so  flushed  with  the 
hope  of  continued  success,  they  were  absolutely  incapable  of 
repose.  As  they  passed  the  wakeful  hours,  and  the  silence  and 
darkness  of  midnight  stole  upon  them,  they  gave  themselves  up 


244  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

to  profound  meditation.  They  reflected  on  the  intense  excite- 
ments and  manifold  dangers  through  which  they  had  passed,  and 
mused  on  the  result  achieved  in  checking  the  onward  course  of 
the  invincible  Stonewall  Jackson,  who  had  caused  fearful  havoc 
in  the  Union  ranks.  They  compared  the  stillness  of  the  night 
with  the  tumult  of  the  previous  days  and  what  might  follow  on 
the  morrow.  They  fancied  that  Death  was  still  hovering  over 
their  decimated  command,  but  the  Cimmerian  hue  prevented 
them  from  distinguishing  who  would  be  the  unhappy  victims. 
They  then  thought  of  their  parents  and  other  loved  ones  at 
home,  and  the  uncertainty  whether  they  would  ever  see  these 
beloved  ones  again  plunged  the  brave  artillerymen  and  their 
heroic,  intrepid  commander  into  the  deepest  melancholy. 

Frequently  in  the  silence  of  that  long  and  never-to-be-for- 
gotten night,  Lieutenant  King  and  his  men  were  startled  by  the 
report  of  cannon,  which,  passing  over  the  thick  surrounding  for- 
ests, sounded  in  a  peculiarly  mournful  and  horrible  manner.  The 
unexpected  sound,  repeated  by  the  echoes  of  the  valley,  was 
lengthened  into  dismal  reverberations,  and  often,  when  the 
harassed  powers  of  my  gallant  friend  and  his  men  were  sinking 
into  calm  and  refreshing  repose,  suddenly  roused  them,  causing 
them  to  hastily  and  fearfully  run  to  the  guns,  with  no  other 
thought  than  that  "Old  Jack,"  who,  when  not  praying,  was  al- 
ways fighting,  was  making  another  attempt  to  cross  the  stream. 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  dangers  and  excitements  Lieu- 
tenant King,  in  battle  ubiquitous,  preserved  a  calm  and  unruf- 
fled countenance.  Keenly  sensible  of  the  great  responsibility 
placed  upon  his  young  but  broad  shoulders,  he  was  always  where 
danger  was  thickest,  but  cheerful  in  disposition,  he  retained  his 
presence  of  mind  though  surrounded  by  the  most  urgent  dangers, 
offering  in  his  own  handsome  and  soldierly  person  the  most 
perfect  model  of  military  discipline. 

But  suddenly,  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning,  Lieutenant 
King,  who  had  passed  the  long  and  dreary  hours  of  the  night  in 
ministering  to  his  wounded,  and  in  burying  his  dead  braves, 
received  orders  to  retire  and  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  the  army, 
which,  by  this  time,  had  reached  a  place  of  comparative  safety. 
His  signal  to  limber  up  was  instantly  obeyed,  his  men  eagerly 
rushing  to  their  different  sections.  All  passed  in  order  noise- 
lessly to  the  rear,  the  equally  jaded  and  exhausted  Confederates, 
now  wrapped  in  sleep,  being  none  the  wiser  for  the  clever  move- 
ment for  several  hours  afterward.  Major  King  had  performed 
his  task.  He  had  saved  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  245 

But  there  will  be  no  more  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war 
for  Major  King.  Never  again  will  loud-mouthed  cannon  con- 
front or  speak  to  him — no  blast  of  bugle  or  drum-beat  summon 
him  to  ensanguined  fields.  No  more  will  he  hear  the  screaming 
shell — no  more  feel  the  surgeon's  knife.  Enshrined  in  the  hearts 
of  his  countrymen  the  memory  of  Major  King  will  ever  be 
cherished,  and  around  the  festive  boards  of  his  companions-in- 
arms will  be  recalled  his  excellencies,  with  sighs  that  he  has 
crossed  the  Silent  River. 


FEARFUL  SCENES  AT  HATTERAS. 

WHILE  aware  that  soldiers  are  ill  qualified  to  narrate 
stories  of  the  seas,  a  province  more  properly  belonging 
to  those  who  have  a  fondness  for  going  down  in  ships 
that  pass  in  the  day  as  well  as  by  night,  I  hesitate  in  attempting 
to  tell  of  exciting  experiences  myself  and  1,200  comrades  had 
on  shipboard  during  a  fierce  gale  at  Hatteras,  the  most  treacher- 
ous and  dangerous  part  of  our  coast,  in  January,  1862. 

The  Ninth  New  Jersey  Regiment  formed  a  part  of  the 
Burnside  expedition — seven  companies  embarking  on  the  ship 
Ann  E.  Thompson,  and  five  on  the  brig  Dragoon.  Our  fleet, 
the  largest  up  to  this  time  that  had  ever  been  assembled  in 
American  waters,  after  leaving  Fortress  Monroe,  had  a  rough 
time  in  going  down  the  coast  in  the  face  of  a  stout  gale  and 
adverse  winds.  We  had  a  disagreeable  time  all  the  afternoon, 
and  during  the  night,  the  storm  raging  with  increasing  violence, 
the  cold  winds  howling  fiercely  as  they  hurled  the  tempestuous 
waters  mountain  high,  tossing  our  vessels  in  a  manner  adapted 
to  excite  the  fears  of  the  most  intrepid.  Many  of  the  men,  by 
the  violent  motion  of  the  ships,  were  thrown  out  of  their  bunks, 
some  sustaining  bodily  injury.  Sleep  was  impossible,  but  the 
men  of  the  Ninth  survived  the  manifold  horrors  of  the  night, 
hailing  with  joy  the  dawn  of  another  day. 

Shortly  after  noon  we  saw  a  long,  low,  narrow  strip  of  white 
sand  over  our  starboard  bow,  and  an  hour  or  two  after  anchored 
a  mile  or  so  this  side  of  the  inlet  to  Pamlico  Sound.  The  two 
vessels  bearing  the  Ninth  Regiment  anchored  near  each  other, 
both  displaying  signals  of  distress  by  floating  flags  with  the 
Union  down.  Near  us  was  a  large  side-wheel  steamer  immersed 
in  the  constantly  rolling  breakers,  fast  going  to  pieces.  The 
angry  waves  dashed  completely  over  it  with  terrific  force.  While 


246  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

we  knew  it  had  been  wrecked,  we  were  in  ignorance  of  the  fate 
of  those  who,  a  few  hours  previous,  had  guided  the  stately  vessel 
within  sight  of  its  destination,  only  to  witness  its  destruction  on  a 
bleak  and  inhospitable  coast. 

On  the  following  day,  the  winds  having  moderated,  and  the 
sea  somewhat  calmed,  Colonel  Allen,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Heck- 
man,  Surgeon  Weller  and  Adjutant  Zabriskie  proceeded  in  a 
small  boat  from  the  ship  Ann  E.  Thompson  to  General  Burn- 
side's  headquarter  boat  in  the  harbor,  to  report  the  arrival  of 
the  command,  and  to  ask  assistance  in  getting  our  two  vessels 
into  the  haven  of  security.  Concluding  their  business,  the 
colonel  and  his  staff  started  upon  the  return  trip,  being  speedily 
and  skilfully  rowed  by  a  vigorous  crew,  commanded  by  the 
second  mate. 

All  went  as  desired  until  the  heavy  breakers  were  reached 
at  the  outlet  to  the  inlet,  when  suddenly,  without  a  moment's 
warning,  a  huge  wave  rose  out  of  the  sea,  bursting  over  the  bow, 
sweeping  to  the  stern,  unshipping  the  oars,  and  nearly  swamp- 
ing the  staunch  little  craft.  Despite  the  unlooked-for  mishap, 
officers  and  crew  retained  presence  of  mind,  maintaining  the 
uprightness  of  the  boat,  nearly  half  filled  with  water.  But  while 
congratulating  themselves  on  their  good  luck,  a  second  and 
larger  breaker  overwhelmed  them,  instantly  swamping  the  heavi- 
ly-laden boat,  and  precipitating  the  occupants  into  the  foaming 
sea.  An  agonizing  scene  followed. 

Colonel  Heckman  and  Adjutant  Zabriskie,  powerful  and 
expert  swimmers,  with  a  reckless  disregard  for  their  own  preser- 
vation, nobly  went  to  the  assistance  of  Colonel  Allen  and  Sur- 
geon Weller,  who  were  battling  in  the  angry  surf,  but  owing  to 
the  exceeding  roughness  of  the  waters  and  their  own  exhaustion 
were  compelled  to  leave  them  to  their  fate.  The  white  foam 
surged  about  them,  while  the  spray  often  engulfed  them,  the 
thunder  of  the  dashing  surge  constantly  sounding  to  them  like 
the  awful  knell  that  the  enraged  ocean  was  singing  for  the  vic- 
tims it  was  seeking  to  entomb.  Colonel  Allen,  although  weigh- 
ing nearly  three  hundred  pounds,  with  much  of  life's  span  already 
behind  him,  was  a  good  swimmer,  but  being  encumbered  with 
a  heavy  rubber  coat  over  a  tight-fitting  uniform,  soon  be- 
came exhausted  by  the  great  efforts  he  made  to  save  himself, 
and  finding  it  hopeless  to  further  contend  with  the  wild  and  over- 
powering waves,  being  completely  exhausted  with  his  prolonged 
efforts,  and  nature  fast  sinking  in  the  useless  conflict,  said  to  the 
ever-intrepid  Heckman  and  gallant  Zabriskie,  "I  can  not  stand 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  247. 

this  much  longer — take  care  of  yourselves ;  may  heaven  bless  you 
both !"  abandoned  himself  to  a  cruel  fate  and  was  seen  no  more 
by  his  still  struggling  companions,  who,  although  ready  to  meet 
death,  felt  it  hard  to  die  without  a  determined  struggle. 

Meantime  the  sailors  had  made  strenuous  efforts  to  right  the 
up-turned  boat,  but  this  they  failed  to  accomplish,  the  heavy 
swells  bobbing  it  about  like  a  cork.  Colonel  Heckman  and  the 
adjutant,  by  dint  of  great  exertion,  finally  succeeded  in  reaching; 
the  over-turned  boat,  which  was  fast  drifting  to  sea  on  an  out- 
going tide,  and  managing  to  raise  a  piece  of  apparel  tied  to  an 
oar  they  had  succeeded  in  securing,  soon  after  attracted  attention 
from  the  crew  of  the  steamer  Patuxent,  which  went  promptly  to 
their  rescue.  Thus  were  saved  these  two  from  entombment  at 
the  ocean's  bottom.  They  were  preserved  for  years  of  gallant 
service  to  the  country  for  which  they  were  willing,  and  in  which 
they  did  suffer  much  e'er  the  great  war  ended — the  former  en- 
during months  of  captivity  at  my  side  in  various  prison  pens, 
the  latter  giving  his  noble  and  promising  young  life  while  fiercely 
battling  to  enter  Richmond,  seven  miles  below  that  stronghold, 
in  May,  1864. 

The  bodies  of  Colonel  Allen,  Surgeon  Weller,  and  the  mate 
of  the  ship  (who  was  also  drowned),  fortunately  were  recovered 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  next  day,  enwrapped  in  canvas,  com- 
pletely covered  with  tar  and  sand,  temporarily  interred  on  Hat- 
teras'  cheerless  bank,  where  the  wild  waves  chanted  solemn  re- 
quiems, Company  B  being  entrusted  with  paying  the  last  sad 
rites  to  the  memory  of  departed  worth. 

Two  weeks  later  the  remains  of  our  officers  were  exhumed 
and  placed  on  the  steamer  Suwanee  in  charge  of  the  Ninth's 
chaplain,  who  was  detailed  to  accompany  the  bodies  to  New 
Jersey.  Had  not  the  regiment  been  on  the  eve  of  battle,  in 
which  every  man  would  be  needed,  it  is  probable  a  suitable  de- 
tachment would  have  been  sent  along.  A  few  days  afterward  the 
remains  of  Colonel  Allen  and  Surgeon  Weller,  encased  in  hand- 
some caskets,  reached  Trenton,  and  were  escorted  to  the  State- 
House.  State  Street,  through  which  the  mournful  cortege — a; 
regiment  of  militia — passed  with  measured  tread  and  saddening 
strains,  was  lined  with  people.  The  caskets,  draped  with  Ameri- 
can flags,  were  carried  into  the  Senate  Chamber,  where  they 
were  viewed  by  thousands  of  sorrowing  citizens. 


248  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


THE  YOUNGEST  SOLDIER. 

FOR  many  years  past,  among  survivors  of  the  Civil  War,  the 
question  as  to  who  was  the  youngest  soldier  in  the  Union 
Army  has  been  mooted,  but  it  seems  no  more  clearly  set- 
tled than  before.  I  have  always  believed,  however,  that  "Gus" 
Schurman,  who  blacked  boots  at  three  cents  a  shine  in  the  City 
Hall  Park,  New  York,  just  before  the  war  broke  out,  was  the 
youngest  member  of  the  great  Union  Army. 

In  June,  1861,  burning  with  a  desire  to  serve  his  country, 
although  but  ten  years  old,  he  enlisted  in  the  Fortieth  New  York 
(Mozart)  Regiment  as  a  drummer,  in  which  line  of  music  he 
was  considered  a  prodigy.  His  father,  a  German,  was  a  bugler 
in  this  command,  and  through  his  influence  "Gus"  was  mustered 
into  the  service. 

At  Harrison's  Landing,  after  the  disastrous  campaign  in  the 
early  summer  of  1862,  General  McClellan,  who  had  a  greater 
partiality  for  "reviews"  than  fighting  the  enemy,  set  a  day  for 
an  elaborate  ceremony,  and  General  Philip  Kearny  called  for  a 
drummer  boy  to  serve  as  his  orderly.  Young  Schurman  was  for- 
tunate in  securing  the  coveted  detail,  and  never  regretted  the 
honor  conferred  upon  him.  When  the  general  (Kearny)  pre- 
sented him  with  a  silver-plated  bugle,  and  bade  him  mount  a  large 
white  mare,  known  as  "Babe,"  over  whose  broad  back  he  could 
scarcely  stretch  his  short  legs,  the  breath  nearly  left  his  body. 
His  previous  horse-exercise  had  been  limited  to  riding  a  sutler's 
horse  to  water.  During  the  manoeuvres,  General  Kearny,  a  superb 
horseman,  and  always  seated  as  firmly  as  a  centaur,  followed  by 
his  staff,  galloped  over  a  rough  field  broken  by  a  formidable 
ravine.  The  general,  mounted  as  usual  on  his  powerful  gray 
charger  "Moscow,"  after  taking  this  with  a  mighty  bound,  looked 
around  with  a  merry  twinkle  to  see  if  his  aides  could  do  likewise, 
but  dismayed  at  the  jump  which  "Moscow"  had  made,  they 
hunted  for  an  easier  and  safer  crossing.  The  little  drummer  alone 
followed  the  intrepid  general.  "Babe,"  a  stable  mate  of  Kearny's 
horse,  which  he  bestrode,  was  coming  like  a  whirlwind,  and  his 
diminutive  rider  might  as  well  have  attempted  to  stop  a  railroad 
train  as  to  check  the  headlong  course  of  the  excited  animal.  On, 
on  came  the  great  white  charger,  ears  back,  red  nostrils  all  wide, 
and  eyes  like  coals  of  fire,  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  when,  ris- 
ing on  her  powerful  haunches,  as  if  shot  from  a  catapault,  she 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  249 

leaped  high  into  the  air  as  though  to  leave  the  earth  forever,  and 
safely  landed  on  the  other  side,  her  light  burden  pale  and  almost 
senseless  with  the  sensation. 

The  chivalric  Kearny,  delighted  with  the  clever  act  of  his 
subordinate,  commended  him,  and  declared  he  must  consider 
himself  as  his  permanent  orderly.  From  that  hour  until  the 
lamented  but  glorious  death  of  the  general  at  Chantilly,  young 
Schurman  was  ever  at  his  side.  Often  in  battle  General  Kearny 
used  the  back  of  his  little  bugler  as  a  writing  desk,  and  if  at  any 
time  he  trembled  at  the  surrounding  dangers,  the  general  was 
sure  to  roundly  curse  him. 

One  day  the  president,  Mrs.  Lincoln"  and  "Tad,"  their 
youngest  son,  then  ten  years  old,  visited  the  army  at  Belle 
Plains,  and  when  "Tad"  saw  the  little  bugler  he  found  his 
"affinity."  "As  I  look  back,"  said  Mr.  Schurman  to  the  writer 
a  few  years  ago,  "I  can  see  that  I  must  have  been  an  object  of 
envy  to  'Tad,'  as  by  that  time  I  had  become  quite  a  horseman, 
could  blow  a  bugle,  beat  a  drum,  and  swagger  about  like  the 
bigger  ones.  The  men,  with  whom  I  was  somewhat  of  a  favorite, 
had  presented  me  with  a  mustang  that  had  formerly  been  rid- 
den by  General  Mosby,  the  guerrilla  chieftain,  and  on  him  I 
cavorted  about  the  field  until  'Tad'  could  stand  it  no  longer, 
and  persuaded  a  cavalryman  to  lend  him  his  horse  to  ride.  Final- 
ly, the  president  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  being  ready  to  return  to 
Washington,  called  'Tad,'  and  bade  him  take  leave  of  me. 

"  'Mother/  says  'Tad/  'I  won't  go  home  unless  'Gus'  (as 
he  already  called  me)  can  go  along.' 

"  'Oh,  no/  interposed  the  president ;  'that  won't  do.  This 
lad  is  a  soldier,  and  must  remain  here  and  attend  to  his  duties.' 

"  'I  don't  care,  pop/  responded  'Tad' ;  'I  want  him  to 
go  home  with  me  and  teach  me  to  ride  and  blow  the  bugle.' 

"This  appeal,  and  the  tears  which  suffused  his  eyes,  was  too 
much  for  the  tender  heart  of  our  president,  who  ever  loved 
^Tad'  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and  to  relieve  the  great  and  good 
man  from  embarrassment  General  Kearny  said:  'Mr.  Presi- 
dent, if  you  desire,  the  bugler  may  accompany  you.  I  will  give 
"him  a  furlough.' 

"  'Tad,  greatly  overjoyed,  thanked  the  general,  while  I  re- 
turned to  my  tent  and  secured  my  knapsack.  I  rode  to  Wash- 
ington in  the  president's  carriage,  and  that  night  slept  serenely 
in  the  guests'  chamber  at  the  White  House.  'Tad'  slept  in  a 
crib  alongside  his  parents'  bed.  The  contrast  of  my  new  quar- 
ters with  my  humble  and  sometimes  uncomfortable  lodgings  of 


250  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

the  past  year  was  so  overwhelming  that  even  now  the  thought 
of  the  beautiful  chamber  I  occupied  awes  me. 

"  'Tad'  was  a  generous-hearted,  sweet-tempered  lad,  with 
an  adventurous  and  inventive  turn  of  mind.  I  well  remember 
one  Sunday  afternoon  when  the  rain  kept  us  in  doors,  that 
'Tad's'  budding  genius  took  a  particularly  distinctive  turn,  when, 
with  his  little  hatchet — perhaps  the  same  one  used  by  young 
George  Washington — he  hacked  at  various  pieces  of  furniture, 
and  finally  sawed  away  the  banisters  of  the  main  stairway. 
When  this  was  reported  to  the  president,  he  called  'Tad'  and  my- 
self into  his  room  and  entertained  us  with  a  story  about  the 
Black  Hawk  war,  and  showed  us  the  sword  he  carried  in  that 
campaign  as  captain  of  a  company  of  volunteers.  He  did  not 
allude  to  our  vandalism. 

'  'Tad'  and  I  owned  Washington  for  several  weeks,  doing 
pretty  much  as  we  pleased.  We  frequently  attended  theatres, 
having  carte  blanche,  and  many  a  time  he  and  I  sat  in  the  theatre 
box  in  which  the  president  in  1865  lost  his  life. 

"One  night  at  Grove's  Theatre  there  was  a  play  called  the 
'Marble  Heart,'  in  which  a  dark,  handsome  man,  with  brilliant 
eyes,  took  the  leading  part.  Spellbound  with  the  acting,  'Tad' 
and  I  looked  up  his  name  on  the  program.  'I'd  like  to  meet  that 
actor/  said  'Tad.'  'He  makes  you  thrill.'  So,  after  the  second 
act,  we  went  back  of  the  stage,  and  were  taken  to  the  dressing- 
room  of  J.  Wilkes  Booth. 

"  'This  is  President  Lincoln's  son,'  said  the  stage  manager, 
and  the  actor  gave  us  each  a  hand  with  a  captivating  smile.  He 
continued  his  make-up,  asking  us  how  we  liked  the  play,  and 
we  telling  him  the  parts  we  most  admired.  On  leaving  he  handed 
us  each  a  rose  from  a  bunch  that  had  been  presented  him  over 
the  footlights." 

My  comrade's  life  at  the  White  House  ended  as  abruptly  as 
it  began.  With  the  aid  of  Mrs.  Lincoln  the  two  boys  arranged 
an  entertainment  for  the  benefit  of  the  hospitals,  the  price  of 
admission  being  fixed  at  ten  cents.  The  audience  was  chiefly 
composed  of  soldiers.  Early  in  the  evening,  just  after  the  presi- 
dent had  entered  the  hall,  a  mud-stained  courier  arrived  from 
the  front,  telling  of  General  Lee's  invasion  of  Pennsylvania,  and 
in  a  moment  all  was  confusion.  Next  day  Schurman  received 
an  order  to  return  to  his  command,  and  he  hurried  to  Gettys- 
burg, reaching  it  with  the  Third  Corps. 

For  many  years  after  the  war,  Mr.  Schurman  was  an  officer 
of  customs  in  New  York.  He  frequently  visited  me  at  my  home. 
A  decade  ago  he  crossed  the  Silent  River. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  251 


HOW  TRENTON  HEARD  OF  SUMTER'S  FALL. 

TRENTON  enjoys  the  proud  distinction  of  having  raised  and 
equipped  the  first  three  companies  of  volunteers  in  the 
War  for  the  Union — Companies  A,  C  and  D,  Third  Regi- 
ment— and  New  Jersey  has  the  honor  of  having  sent  the  first 
brigade — four  full  regiments — to  the  national  capital. 

General  Beauregard,  commanding  Confederate  forces  in 
Charleston  Harbor,  at  4.30  a.  m.,  Friday,  April  12,  1861  (47 
years  ago)  opened  his  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter  from 
Morris  Island,  and  next  day  at  1.10  p.  m.,  Major  Robert  Ander- 
son, commanding  at  the  fort  (a  resident  of  Trenton  in  1860), 
signified  his  readiness  to  surrender  by  raising  a  white  flag  on 
the  broken  staff  from  which  the  Stars  and  Stripes  had  floated 
mid  the  storm  of  shell  with  which  it  had  for  more  than  thirty 
hours  been  assailed.  The  formal  surrender  took  place  at  nine 
o'clock  on  the  following  morning — Sunday — and  a  few  minutes 
later  the  direful  news  reached  New  Jersey's  capital  city. 

Few  Trentonians,  however  religiously  inclined,  attended  di- 
vine service  on  that  beautiful  morning,  owing  to  the  intense 
excitement  which  pervaded  the  community.  Warren  Street, 
from  State  Street  nearly  to  Front  Street,  was  packed  by  a  fren- 
zied multitude,  anxious  to  hear  the  latest  from  the  seat  of  war, 
as  given  out  by  Mr.  Wright,  the  only  telegraph  operator  in 
town.  Never  since  Washington  victoriously  entered  the  city  on 
that  ever-memorable  Christmas  night  in  1776,  had  its  people 
been  so  profoundly  stirred. 


At  noon  that  day  members  of  the  America  Hose  Company 
announced  their  willingness  to  form  a  nucleus  for  a  company, 
and  before  the  sun  went  down  behind  the  hills  on  the  western 
side  of  the  Delaware,  I  had  leased  a  vacant  store  on  the  south 
side  of  State  Street,  and  opened  the  same  that  evening  as  a 
recruiting  station  for  volunteers,  intelligence  having  reached 
Trenton  that  President  Lincoln  would  on  the  morrow  call  for 
75,000  men  to  defend  the  national  capital. 

Next  day,  Monday,  April  15,  my  company  (C,  Wilkinson 
Guards),  without  doubt  the  first  volunteers  to  enroll  in  the 
state,  if  not  in  the  country,  was  fully  recruited — 77  members  in 
all.  The  quartermaster  general  (Perrine)  at  once  purchased  a 
quantity  of  gray  cloth,  and  distributed  the  material  among  the 
patriotic  women  of  the  city  to  be  made  into  so-called  uniforms. 


252  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

I  recall  that  an  old  lady,  living  on  Warren  Street,  near  the  Bel- 
videre  Railroad  bridge,  had  the  making  of  my  jacket,  and  that 
I  impatiently  waited  in  her  house  several  hours  to  see  her  finish 
it,  so  anxious  was  I  to  don  soldier's  apparel,  and  I  remember 
how  vain  I  felt  as  I  walked  down  Warren  street  to  the  recruiting 
station,  wearing  the  little  gray  blouse.  It  was  probably  the  first 
uniform  made  and  worn  in  Trenton's  streets  after  the  issuance 
of  the  president's  proclamation.  Whether  I  removed  the  jacket 
on  retiring  that  night  I  have  no  recollection,  but  I  vividly  recall 
sleeping  in  it  from  that  time  on  for  three  long  months. 


Eight  days  afterwards  we  were  mustered  into  Uncle  Sam's 
military  service  by  Lieutenant  A.  T.  A.  Torbert,  U.  S.  A.  (after- 
wards a  famous  general),  and  at  noon  on  the  fourth  of  May  left 
for  Washington  on  steam  propellers,  going  by  way  of  inland 
waters  owing  to  the  impossibility  of  traveling  by  rail,  the  "Plug 
Uglies"  of  Baltimore  having  control  of  the  Monumental  City, 
and  interdicting  communication  with  the  national  capital. 

The  three  Trenton  companies,  without  overcoats,  despite 
the  chilly  weather,  embarked  on  the  first  propeller  in  line.  It 
occupied  the  lock  at  State  Street,  where  an  immense  crowd  had 
assembled  to  witness  the  embarkation  and  departure.  The  scene 
pictured  there  that  day  and  its  memories  will  abide  so  long  as 
life  lasts.  Very  few,  however,  of  those  who  witnessed  the  leave- 
taking  are  now  living.  The  roar  of  cannon,  the  waving  of  flags, 
the  fluent  cheers  did  not  move  us  as  did  the  parting  kiss,  the  hot 
tear,  the  tender  farewell,  the  admonition  to  remember  the  holy 
cause  in  which  we  had  embarked,  and  the  lavish  distribution  of 
beautiful  flowers  in  every  form  of  graceful  bouquet,  brought  by 
father,  mother,  sister  and  sweetheart. 


The  Trenton  Gazette,  next  day,  in  describing  the  departure  of 
the  Third  Regiment,  said: 

"As  the  Trenton  companies  sailed  away  ladies  waved  their 
handkerchiefs,  cheer  after  cheer  was  given  and  returned,  and  the 
drums  beat.  The  mothers,  fathers,  sisters,  brothers,  friends  and 
even  sweethearts  of  many  of  the  soldiers  were  there  to  bid  them 
adieu,  it  may  be  for  the  last  time.  Mothers  whose  sons  were 
going  to  the  wars ;  wives  who  parted  with  loving  husbands,  bit- 
terly wept,  and  in  that  large  crowd  there  was  not  a  man  who  did 
not  feel  his  heart  beat  in  sympathy  with  the  solemn  and  affecting 
scene. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  253 

"The  soldiers,  although  sad  and  sorrowful,  as  men  would 
be  in  taking  leave  of  relatives  and  friends,  appeared  nevertheless, 
firm  and  determined ;  and  we  have  no  doubt  that  when  they  meet 
the  Southern  traitors  in  the  shock  of  battle,  they  will  render  a 
good  account  of  themselves.  After  many  anxious  days  of  sus- 
pense, part  of  our  gallant  soldiery  have  gone  forth  to  battle  for 
the  right,  and  hundreds  more  are  ready  to  leave  our  city,  and 
thousands  to  leave  our  state,  to  follow  them.  May  God  go  with 
them !  May  victory  perch  upon  their  standards !  May  rebellion 
be  crushed,  and  the  Union  be  maintained,  and  the  Jersey  Blues 
come  home  covered  with  glory !" 


The  voyage  to  Annapolis  was  attended  by  many  discom- 
forts, a  fierce  northeasterly  storm  prevailing.  On  the  way  down 
the  Delaware  River,  the  propeller  "Farmer,"  on  which  the  Tren- 
ton companies  had  taken  passage,  was  blown  upon  a  bar,  but 
not  the  kind  most  of  the  boys  would  liked  to  have  visited  at 
that  particular  time,  causing  considerable  excitement.  The  old 
hulk  was  finally  gotten  off,  but  only  with  great  difficulty,  and 
we  were  heartily  grateful  when  we  landed  at  Annapolis,  although 
we  did  so  in  the  midst  of  a  pelting  hail-storm.  We  were  very 
hungry,  an  incompetent  and  ignorant  quartermaster  having 
failed  to  provide  sufficient  rations  for  the  trip. 

The  arrival  of  the  Jersey  brigade  at  the  National  capital  sent 
a  thrill  of  great  joy  through  the  great  heart  of  our  noble  and 
patriotic  president,  and  gave  him  the  first  assurance  that  the 
capital  was  safe  by  our  presence.  We  took  possession  of  unoccu- 
pied buildings  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  holding  evening  parades 
on  that  broad  but  then  alternately  dusty  and  muddy  thorough- 
fare, until  we  received  tents  and  went  under  canvass  on  Meridian 
Hill,  a  couple  of  miles  outside  the  city,  where  we  had  our  first 
drills. 

At  midnight,  May  24,  under  a  full  moon,  our  brigade 
marched  silently  down  Fourteenth  Street  to  the  Long  Bridge 
spanning  the  Potomac  River,  passing  en  route  long  lines  of 
waiting  troops.  No  sounds,  save  the  measured  tread  of  the 
marching  columns,  the  hoof-beats  of  horses,  and  the  rumbling 
of  artillery  wheels,  disturbed  the  serenity  of  the  beautiful  night, 
the  people  of  Washington  being  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the 
movement. 


The  Jersey  Brigade  was  preceded  across  the  river  by  Dis- 
trict of  Columbia  volunteers,  and  two  New  York  Regiments. 


254  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

Turning  to  the  left,  after  marching  a  few  hundred  yards,  we 
found  ourselves  on  the  main  road  leading  to  Alexandria,  while 
the  column  which  led  us  across  the  bridge  secured  Arlington 
Heights,  and  with  it  the  home  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee,  now 
overlooking  the  National  Cemetery.  We  had  probably  reached 
half  the  distance  to  Alexandria,  when  we  learned  that  Ellsworth's 
Zouaves  and  a  Michigan  regiment  had  landed  in  the  ancient  city, 
and  that  the  gallant  Ellsworth  had  been  killed  by  Jackson,  pro- 
prietor of  the  Marshall  House. 

When  day  came  our  brigade  was  set  to  work  throwing  up 
entrenchments  (subsequently  well  known  as  Fort  Runyon).  We 
were  kept  at  this  laborious  work,  besides  doing  picket  duty,  for 
several  weeks,  receiving  no  extra  compensation,  save  in  the 
issue  each  day  of  whiskey,  in  which  a  generous  quantity  of 
quinine  had  been  mixed,  thus  doubtless  saving  many  from  chills 
and  fever. 

While  not  active  participants  in  battle  in  this  the  first  cam- 
paign of  the  war,  we  cheerfully  performed  manifold  duties  for 
meagre  pay — $11  a  month — and  without  hope  of  reward  for 
sacrifices  made,  other  than  enjoying  the  satisfaction  that  we 
were  engaged  in  a  righteous  cause,  and  doing  all  in  our,  power 
to  uphold  a  government  established  by  our  forefathers. 


Who  can  cease  remembering  the  privations  to  which  the 
men  of  the  Jersey  (three  months')  brigade  were  subjected  in  the 
earlier  part  of  the  campaign  ?  Whether  this  state  of  affairs  was 
due  to  incompetent  and  inexperienced  men  in  charge  of  the  com- 
missariat, or  the  inability  of  the  government  to  provide  the 
necessary  supplies,  none  have  ever  been  able  to  satisfactorily 
explain,  but  we  do  know  that  for  weeks  after  our  arrival  in 
Washington,  like  a  half-famished  crew  of  a  dismantled  ship 
which  has  been  buffeted  by  storms,  we  availed  ourselves  of  every 
opportunity  to  eke  our  scanty  supplies  by  catching  fish  in  the 
Potomac  River,  flowing  tranquilly  beside  our  camps.  The  cap- 
ture of  a  catfish,  with  which  the  placid  waters  abounded,  was 
regarded  with  livelier  joy  than  California  miner  ever  manifested 
when  his  diligent  search  and  severe  toil  were  rewarded  with  the 
discovery  of  a  nugget  of  fabulous  value. 

As  a  result  of  the  heroic  sacrifices  made  by  the  three  months' 
men,  who  left  home  and  all  that  was  dear  at  a  moment's  notice, 
without  previous  preparation,  and  without  the  stimulus  of  any 
bounty  (such  a  thing  not  being  dreamed  of  at  that  time),  the 
national  capital  was  saved. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  255 

To-day  peace  smiles  on  all  our  land.  Over  all  the  fields 
torn  by  battle  kindly  nature  has  strewn  a  robe  of  emerald, 
flecked  here  and  there  with  buttercup  and  daisy. 

From  towns  and  cities'  shattered  by  shot  and  shell,  gentle 
time  has  rubbed  every  scar.  Into  homes  desolated,  content  long 
ago  came,  and  at  broken  firesides,  long  shrouded  in  gloom,  the 
Angel  of  Peace  has  furled  her  wing.  Industry,  commerce,  and 
all  the  arts  flourish  as  never  before.  Resentments  long  and  bit- 
terly cherished  are  hushed ;  the  embers  of  old  exasperations  and 
hate  have  died  out  upon  the  hearth. 

While  thanking  God  that  He  has  thus  delivered  us  out  of 
all  our  troubles,  let  us  not  forget  the  heroic  dead  who  died  that 
the  nation  might  live,  and  let  patriotic  people  continue  to  fling 
sprigs  of  rosemary  on  every  loyal  soldier's  grave,  keeping  it  for- 
ever green  in  grateful  memory. 


REUNION  OF  EIGHTH  NEW  JERSEY. 

FOR  many  years  past  General  Drake  has  been  an  honored 
guest  at  the  annual  reunions  of  the  Eighth  New  Jersey 
Regiment.  At  the  reunion  in  1907,  he  said: 

"Mr.  President: — In  attempting  a  response  to  your  cour- 
teous request  and  introduction,  I  again  realize  the  swiftness  of 
the  flight  of  time,  as  apparently  it  were  but  yesterday — on  a  sim- 
ilar occasion — when  you  extended  the  same  compliment  to  me. 

"I  always  experience  great  delight  in  attending  the  annual 
reunions  of  the  survivors  of  the  Eighth  New  Jersey  Volunteers, 
in  which  organization  I  long  ago  found  my  "affinity,  as  you 
know,  with  one  of  your  most  gallant  members,  with  whom  I  had 
peculiar  and  thrilling  experiences  in  the  darkest  days  of  the  long 
and  bitter  struggle  of  1861-1865,  and  it  gives  me  no  less  pleasure 
in  being  present  to-night  at  your  symposium.  The  genuine  com- 
radeshipe  ever  shown  me  by  Captain  Harry  H.  Todd,  of  your 
regiment,  my  companion  in  captivity  in  various  Confederate 
prison-houses,  as  well  as  in  the  longest  and  most  perilous  jour- 
ney made  by  escaping  prisoners  of  war,  has  been  to  me  a  price- 
less recollection  through  all  the  intervening  forty-three  years,  a 
longer  period  of  life  than  is  allotted  the  most  of  mankind,  and 
I  may  add  that  as  time  passes,  imposing  languor  and  age,  our 
affection,  brought  into  being  under  dangerous,  painful  and  dis- 
tressing circumstances,  increases  day  by  day.  'Tis  this  unalter- 
able love  that  binds  me  closely  to  you,  his  comrades,  and  gives 


256  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

me  intense  pleasure  in  greeting  year  after  year  as  time  rolls  on. 

"This  evening,  as  we  come  to  this  delightful  and  hallowed 
hour,  you  men  of  the  Eighth  recall  the  many  battles  in  which  you 
were  permitted  to  take  an  active  part  in  defence  of  the  flag 
you  cherished.  None  forget  those  terrible  days  of  1861-1865, 
when  passion  embittered  the  hearts  of  the  people  throughout  this 
land,  but  to-night  we  sit  here  with  gratitude  to  God  because  of  a 
united  country — because  of  one  flag,  which  your  devotion  and 
sacrifices  did  so  much  to  preserve. 

"The  time  will  never  come  when  your  patriotism  shall  be 
forgotten,  for  your  love  of  country  and  the  principles  underlying 
that  awful  struggle  did  more  to  inspire  and  bless  this  land  with  a 
true  idea  of  the  dedication  of  heart  and  life  to  our  country's 
future  and  destiny  than  all  things  else. 

"The  history  of  the  nations  of  the  earth,  as  they  have  striven 
for  a  higher  civilization,  is  replete  with  tales  of  brilliant  daring, 
of  mighty  valor,  and  of  victories  won  through  the  baptism  of 
blood  and  fire,  but  nowhere  and  by  no  people  have  those  qualities 
shown  to  greater  advantage  than  in  our  own  dear  land. 

"One  hundred  and  thirty-two  years  ago  our  forefathers  sev- 
ered the  shackles  that  bound  them  hand  and  foot  to  England, 
whose  king  and  nobles  laughed  scornfully  when  they  heard  the 
bell  of  Liberty  in  Philadelphia  proclaim  the  establishment  of  a 
Republic,  whose  flag  was  soon  to  float  on  merchant  vessels  in 
every  port  of  the  world  and  become  a  symbol  of  power  and 
protection  to  the  lowliest  person  who  could  claim  the  proud  title 
of  American  citizen. 

"Strong  and  great  America  stands  to-day  because  of  the 
patriotism  and  heroic  sacrifices  of  the  volunteers  of  1861-1865. 
Our  country  no  longer  has  the  dew  of  youth  upon  its  brow ;  it  is 
a  giant,  sturdy  and  strong.  It  has  faced  the  chilling  blasts  of 
adversity  and  successfully  climbed  the  proud  heights  of  fame;  it 
is  rich  in  agricultural  and  mineral  wealth,  and  strong  in  citizen 
soldiery,  who  need  but  the  sound  of  fife  and  drum,  as  in  1861, 
to  call  them  from  the  farm,  desk  and  factory,  to  defend  the 
honor  of  the  flag,  for  which  you  men  of  the  Eighth  did  so  much 
and  suffered  so  greatly. 

"And  if  I  correctly  understand  the  portent  of  the  present 
time,  I  may  say  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  our  youth  will 
be  called  upon  to  rally  in  defence  of  the  flag  we  carried  to  glory. 
For  months  past  mutterings  of  war  have  been  heard  on  the  Pacific 
coast,  and  a  single  breath  may  fan  a  great  flame  and  let  loose 
the  dogs  of  war.  It  is  well,  therefore,  that  America  to-day  has 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  257 

a  navy  second  to  none  in  the  world — ships  and  men  capable  of 
successfully  engaging  any  foe  that  may  appear  on  the  seas.  Let 
us  be  thankful,  too,  that  at  the  head  of  our  nation  stands  a  man,, 
who,  seeing  the  great  dangers  threatening  our  possessions,  has 
wisely  taken  timely  measures  to  thwart  Asiatic  pretensions — 
at  least  for  the  time  being. 

"May  the  young  men  of  to-day,  as  well  as  those  to  follow, 
continue  to  draw  inspiration  and  lessons  of  patriotism  and  devo- 
tion from  the  noble  example,  you,  my  comrades,  set  when,  without 
a  moment's  warning  or  preparation  for  the  sacrifice,  you  left  all 
that  was  near  and  dear  to  hazard  everything  in  defence  of  the 
best  form  of  government  ever  vouchsafed  to  man. 

"And  now,  my  comrades,  when  our  Union  exists  in  abso- 
lute integrity  and  our  Republic  is  in  complete  and  triumphant 
development,  may  the  young  men  of  this  God-given  land,  whether 
their  fathers  or  grand-sires  wore  the  color  that  suggests  the  gray 
of  the  morning  sky  or  the  beautiful  blue  of  the  full  noon,  feel, 
proud  of  our  blended  battle-fields,  radiant  with  the  common  glo- 
ries of  our  companions-in-arms,  and  bind  themselves  together 
with  the  same  sacred  bonds  of  friendship  and  brotherly  love  that 
so  happily  and  firmly  exists  between  the  comrades  of  the  Eighth- 
New  Jersey." 

LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS  OF  CIVIL  WAR. 

SOME  may  wonder  why  those  who  served  long  years  in 
the  Union  and  Confederate  armies  during  the  Civil  War 
delight  at  this  late  day  in  recalling  recollections  of  the 
campaigns  in  which  they  took  part,  but  when  one  has  partici- 
pated in  toilsome  marches,  faced  dangers  on  field  and  flood, 
been  weakened  by  the  loss  of  life's  blood  and  suffered  the  hor- 
rors of  starvation  in  prison  pens,  it  cannot  be  considered  strange 
that  he  should  remember  the  fatigue,  hunger,  thirst  and  agony 
of  mind  which  made  impressions  that  will  last  as  long  as  life 
itself,  or  tell  of  exciting  scenes  he  witnessed  or  of  the  sufferings 
he  and  his  comrades  underwent. 

When  war's  dread  alarm  sounded  in  Charleston  Harbor  in 
April,  1861,  the  people  of  the  north  and  south,  devoted  for 
many  years  to  industry,  knew  so  little  about  warfare  that  none 
in  this  broad  land  had  the  faintest  conception  the  struggle 
would  be  Titanic  in  character,  and  continue  with  unabated  fierce- 
ness for  four  long  years. 


258  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

The  first  campaign,  ending  with  the  miserably-managed  bat- 
tle of  Bull  Run,  has  long  been  regarded  as  but  little  better  than 
a  costly  picnic  or  pleasure  excursion.  The  men  who  first  re- 
sponded to  the  call  of  the  respective  Governments,  left  home 
carrying  luggage  enough  to  burden  a  small  mule,  the  superfluous 
articles  pressed  upon  them  by  fond  parents,  affectionate  brothers 
and  sisters,  sweethearts  and  friends,  including  almost  everything 
from  a  Bible  to  a  dirk-knife. 

It  was  very  hard  at  first  for  the  volunteer  soldier  to  acquire 
the  habit  of  military  discipline,  so  necessary  to  a  proper  perform- 
ance of  duty.  Particularly  hard,  almost  debasing,  the  thought, 
was  it  for  a  young  man,  perhaps  the  son  of  a  rich,  indulgent 
father,  to  take  arbitrary  orders  from  the  newly-fledged  officer, 
who  had  but  lately  been  in  his  father's  employ.  It  required 
months  for  the  American  volunteer  to  overcome  this  fe,eling  of 
superiority. 

Americans  living  to-day  have  but  little  conception  of  the 
fatigues  and  dangers  incurred  by  the  gallant  defenders  of  the 
Union  in  1861-1865.  In  the  long  marches  the  volunteer,  some- 
times a  bare  stripling  of  16  and  under,  was  compelled  to  be  his 
own  master  of  transportation,  keeping  pace  with  older  and 
sturdier  ones  during  the  long  hours  of  the  day,  and  often  far 
into  the  night,  with  his  great  burden — enough  to  stagger  a  mule 
— of  an  eleven-pound  rifle,  canteen  of  water,  forty  or  sixty 
rounds  of  ball  cartridges,  three  or  more  days'  cold  rations,  to 
say  nothing  about  heavy  leather  belts  supporting  cartridge  box, 
•cap  pouch  and  bayonet  scabbard,  together  with  overcoat,  rub- 
ber and  woolen  blankets,  shelter  tent,  and  often  a  change  of 
underwear. 

This  burden  was  uncomplainingly  borne  by  boys  who  never 
"heeded  weather  conditions.  They  tramped  along  the  weary 
•way  in  clouds  of  stifling  dust,  under  a  burning  sun,  and  fre- 
quently in  storm  and  mud  half  ankle  deep 

If  depressed  in  spirit,  or  feeling  as  if  they  could  no  longer 
place  one  foot  before  the  other,  so  great  was  their  exhaustion 
and  desire  for  rest  and  sleep,  the  sound  of  a  cannot  shot  or  the 
sudden  rattle  of  a  volley  of  musketry,  instantly  revived  their 
hopes  for  battle  and  victory,  and  in  a  moment,  relieved  from 
ennui,  fatigue  was  forgotten  under  the  stimulus  of  battle  forma- 
tion and  the  excitement  attending  the  opening  of  a  contest. 

While  the  American  volunteer  soldier  had  tribulations,  he 
"had  also  well-springs  of  pleasure — moments  of  joy  and  gladness. 
In  camp,  when  not  on  duty,  he  indulged  in  various  exercises, 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  259 

and  improved  his  mind  by  reading,  writing  and  innocent  amuse- 
ments to  relieve  him  from  ennui.  Some  vocalists  in  our  great 
army  would  have  graced  any  public  entertainment  at  home. 
Among  the  most  noted  singers  I  ever  heard  in  the  service  were 
the  famous  Lombard  brothers,  of  Illinois.  Adjutant  Lombard, 
prince  of  good  fellows,  while  a  prisoner  of  war,  did  much  to 
enliven  the  spirits  of  his  forlorn  and  unhappy  companions  in 
misery,  and  I  doubt  not  his  melodies  and  rich,  musical  voice 
saved  many  from  despair  and  relinquishing  hope  of  exchange. 
Of  one  solace  the  American  Volunteers  could  not  be  de- 
prived. Amid  all  the  excitements  of  camp,  march,  bivouac  and 
battle,  thoughts  of  loved  ones  at  home  restrained  them  from 
yielding  to  temptation,  and  inspired  them  with  fortitude  to  en- 
dure privations  as  good  soldiers.  Letters  from  dearest  kindred, 
descriptive  of  scenes  at  their  old  homesteads,  and  making  in- 
quiry concerning  their  welfare,  when  received,  greatly  delighted 
and  comforted  them.  The  father  who  left  an  affectionate  family 
to  take  up  arms  in  their  defense  was  constantly  reminded  that 
he  was  the  object  of  tenderest  sympathy,  and  his  heart  dilated 
with  pleasure  and  his  sinewy  arms  acquired  additional  vigor 
when  he  received  this  proof  that  his  toils  and  sacrifices  were 
appreciated  by  those  dearer  to  him  than  his  own  existence. 

There  was  always  something  picturesque  and  sublime  in  a 
night  bivouac  of  any  army.  The  long  lines  of  fires  flickering 
and  glowing  in  the  darkness ;  the  groups  of  weary  soldiers,  their 
free  and  easy  attitudes,  their  arms  at  their  sides,  ready  to  be 
caught  up  at  any  instant ;  the  simple  fare,  exhausted  men  cook- 
ing their  own  supper ;  the  long-stretching  shadows  and  the  back- 
ground of  Cimmerian  blackness.  Can  you,  reader,  imagine  all 
this?  Then  the  vast  multitude  slumbers  as  one  man — only  the 
sentinels  keeping  .watch  and  ward.  The  trees  shelter  some, 
and  some  lie  in  blankets  under  stars  illumining  the  ethereal  blue. 
And  thousands  of  that  tired  and  sleeping  host  are  dreaming — 
some  of  home,  some  of  partings  that  were  painful,  or  of  future 
meetings  that  shall  be  full  of  joy — till  suddenly  the  trumpets 
sound,  and  all  that  host  rises  from  the  earth,  and  the  stern  reali- 
ties of  the  toilsome  march,  the  fight,  the  terrible  roar  and  whistle 
of  death  take  the  place  of  dreams. 


260  HISTORICAL.  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

THE  FIRST  STARS  AND  STRIPES. 

DID  the  Psalmist  of  old  prophesy  the  eventual  coming  of 
the  stars  and  stripes  when  he  wrote  the  fourth  verse  of 
the  sixtieth  psalm,  which  reads:  "Thou  hast  given  a 
banner  to  them  that  fear  Thee,  that  it  may  be  displayed  because 
of  the  truth?" 

Is  it  not  true  that  our  starry  banner  has  ever  been  raised 
"because  of  the  truth?" 

Mankind  has  ever  loved  symbols  and  emblems,  for  they 
speak  a  higher,  finer  language  than  the  human  tongue  can 
frame. 

The  higher  a  nation  stands  the  more  of  a  halo  will  there 
be  about  its  flag.  The  patriotism  of  its  people  is  measured  by 
their  devotion  to  their  national  emblem. 

The  white  plume  of  the  Knight  of  Navarre  inspired  his 
followers  to  deeds  of  desperate  valor;  the  sacred  raven  of  the 
Danes  led  them  to  merciless  defeat ;  the  passion  red  cross  of  the 
Crusaders  was  an  inspiration  as  they  advanced  chanting  prayers 
across  trackless  and  burning  wastes  to  battle  with  the  Saracen ; 
Roman  soldiers  defended  their  eagles  as  their  most  precious 
inheritance ;  while  it  was  under  the  banner  of  St.  George  (not  an 
Englishman)  that  Briton  purchased  Hessians  to  fight  against 
American  liberty. 

The  war  for  American  independence  had  progressed  more 
than  two  years  ere  any  step  leading  to  the  adoption  of  a  National 
flag  was  taken  by  Congress.  Up  to  that  time  the  colonies  had 
had  no  less  than  sixty-four  different  flags  on  land  and  sea. 

Who  designed  our  starry  banner  may  never  be  known,  but 
it  is  commonly  believed  that  Washington's  coat-of-arms  sug- 
gested the  design. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  women  of  English  ancestry 
made  the  first  American  flag,  using  English  bunting  and  Eng- 
lish thread,  and,  furthermore,  that  they  presented  the  emblem 
to  an  English-bred  Scotchman,  shortly  after  the  action  of  Con- 
gress in  ordering  the  manufacture  of  a  flag  with  thirteen  stripes, 
alternating  red  and  white,  the  union  of  states  to  be  thirteen 
white  stars  on  a  blue  field,  representing  the  new  constellation. 

John  Paul  Jones  was  first  to  fling  the  political  firmament 
from  his  vessel,  the  "Ranger,"  then  lying  in  New  Jersey  waters, 
a  flag  that  has  since  astonished  the  world  with  its  beauty,  and 
delighted  lovers  of  liberty  with  its  symbolism. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  261 

Jones's  flag,  made  in  Philadelphia  by  two  sisters — Mary 
and  Jane  Austin — after  going  the  wide-world  o'er,  finally  fell 
into  the  possession  of  James  B.  Stafford,  a  lieutenant  on  the 
"Ranger"  and  "Bon  Homme  Richard,"  an  uncle  of  Miss  Sally 
Stafford,  of  Trenton,  N.  J.,  with  whom  the  writer  was  well  ac- 
quainted. Miss  Stafford  religiously  cared  for  the  sacred  relic 
until  her  death. 

I  had  the  honor  of  displaying  this  flag  in  a  political  proces- 
sion in  Trenton  in  1854,  and  find  it  pleasant  to  recall  the  ap- 
plause accorded  the  emblem  as  it  was  proudly  borne  aloft  from 
the  bow  of  a  large  boat  in  which  myself  and  other  boy  members 
of  the  "Stockton  Sailor  Club"  rode  through  streets  lined  with 
patriotic 

THE  BATTLE. 

THE  grouping  of  falling  men  and  horses;  the  many  heaped 
up  masses  of  dead  moved  strangely  by  the  living  maimed 
among  them,  showing  the  points  where  the  deadly  strife 
had  been  most  severe;  the  commingling  of  uniforms  of  friends 
and  foes,  as  both  lie  scattered  on  the  ground  on  which  they  fell ; 
the  groups  surrounding  this  and  that  individual  sufferer,  hearing 
his  last  words,  giving  to  him  the  last  drops  of  water  which  will 
ever  moisten  his  lips  upon  earth ;  the  stretchers  borne  from 
various  points,  each  carrying  some  officer  or  enlisted  man,  who 
has  now  the  startling  feeling  forced  upon  him,  "it  has  come  to 
this,  and  yet  there  may  be  hope  of  life ;"  his  excited  overworn 
spirit,  half  fainting  as  it  is,  yet  dreaming  a  mixed  feverish  dream 
of  the  charge  in  which  he  met  his  wound,  and  the  thoughts  of 
home  that  flashed  upon  the  heart  as  it  seemed  to  commit  that 
heart  to  a  moment's  oblivion  of  all  else. 

Then  comes  the  first  dawn  of  the  hope  that  life  may  be 
spared;  the  view  of  horrid  objects  passed,  seen  with  a  dimmed 
eye;  hope  of  life  growing  stronger,  but  with  it  now  a  dread  of 
some  operation  to  be  undergone ;  the  sound  of  guns  still  heard, 
begetting  a  feverish,  impatient  desire  to  know  the  result  of  the 
battle.  Again,  a  partial  waking  up  at  the  voice  of  the  surgeon ; 
he  and  his  assistants  seen  as  through  a  mist;  the  deafened  feel- 
ings of  utter  weakness  causing  all  to  seem  as  though  they  spoke 
in  whispers;  the  still  further  rousing  of  the  mind  as  the  cordial 
administered  begins  to  take  effect;  the  voice  of  a  comrade  or 
friend  lying  close  by,  himself  wounded,  yet  speaking  to  cheer; 


262  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

the  operation  borne  bravely,  and  felt  the  less  as  it  gives  promise 
of  a  life  just  now  seemingly  lost  to  hope;  through  it  all  fresh 
news  ever  arriving  from  amidst  the  din  of  the  strife  yet  raging. 
All  this  has  a  life  and  motion  and  spirit  in  it  which  mocks  the 
real  grave  horror  of  the  scene. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF 
GENERAL  JAMES  MADISON  DRAKE. 

WRITTEN  BY  His  FATHER  IN 

subject  of  this  sketch  was  born  near  Washington  Rock, 
Somerset  County,  New  Jersey,  March  25,  1837,  and  very 
early  gave  indication  of  the  enterprising  spirit  which  has 
incited  him  to  noble  efforts  during  a  busy  life. 

As  soon  as  he  began  to  toddle,  our  hero  accompanied  his 
parents  on  holy  days  to  the  neighboring  church;  but  instead  of 
employing  sacred  hours  in  listening  reverently  to  expositions  of 
Scripture,  and  joining  in  the  ascriptions  of  praise,  it  was  his 
custom  to  wander  from  the  maternal  knee  into  the  adjacent  aisles, 
cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  sociable  worshipers,  and,  occa- 
sionally, climb  the  pulpit  steps  to  gaze  upon  a  congregation  of 
familiar  faces. 

It  was  natural  that  a  child  manifesting  such  amiable  traits 
should  early  desire  to  see  something  of  the  bright  world  into 
which  he  had  been  introduced.  Accordingly,  when  he  attained 
the  age  of  two  years,  he  contrived  to  climb  into  a  wagon  and 
conceal  his  tiny  form  behind  the  articles  with  which  it  was  partly 
laden.  Directly  his  father  attached  the  horses,  and,  walking 
beside  them,  proceeded  on  his  way  over  the  mountain,  little  sus- 
pecting that  the  wee  one,  who  was  his  mother's  constant  com- 
panion, was  being  jolted  over  the  rugged  road.  Home  was  left 
far  behind  before  the  truant  was  discovered,  and  great  was  his 
joy  when  the  astonished  father  consented  that  he  might  accom- 
pany him  to  his  journey's  end.  On  the  young  traveler's  return 
to  his  anxious  mother  he  related  marvelous  stories  of  hair- 
breadth escapes  from  imminent  dangers ;  and  described  in  glowing 
sentences  the  wonderful  objects  that  had  delighted  his  vision. 

When  Drake  was  about  six  years  old,  his  father  established 
a  printing  office  in  Elizabeth,  and  introduced  him  to  a  busy 
scene.  Here  the  lad  acquired  much  useful  knowledge,  and  be- 
came a  proficient  in  the  "Art  preservative  of  all  Arts."  At  the 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  263 

age  of  twelve  years,  he  was  a  rapid  and  correct  compositor. 
When  about  fifteen,  he  held  a  situation  on  a  Trenton  morning 
newspaper,  and  was  noted  for  skill  and  diligence.  The  year  fol- 
lowing (1854)  he  began  the  publication  of  the  "Mercer  Stand- 
ard," a  literary  paper  of  acknowledged  excellence.  Later,  he 
started  a  daily  newspaper,  entitled  the  "Evening  Express,"  which 
was  continued  by  an  association  of  journeymen  printers  under 
the  title  of  the  "True  Democrat." 

For  some  time  the  energetic  youth  was  a  reporter  on  "The 
State  Gazette,"  and  his  talents  and  industry  won  for  him  the 
esteem  of  Trenton's  most  eminent  citizens.  In  1860  he  was 
induced  to  again  engage  in  the  newspaper  business,  and  issued 
a  campaign  sheet  entitled  "The  Wide-Awake,"  which  did  good 
service  in  the  Republican  cause,  adding  largely  to  Lincoln's  vote 
in  Mercer  County. 

At  the  age  of  23  years,  Drake  was  elected  an  Alderman  of 
Trenton,  the  Republicans  giving  him  a  handsome  majority;  and, 
at  the  expiration  of  his  term,  he  was  re-elected.  In  a  community 
noted  for  its  choice  of  good  men  for  positions  of  trust,  the  election 
of  the  young  publisher  was  justly  regarded  by  his  friends  as  an 
honorable  recognition  of  his  virtues  and  services. 

In  1859,  Drake  organized  the  "America  Hose  Company  of 
Trenton,"  then,  as  now,  one  of  the  most  efficient  associations  for 
the  extinguishing  of  fires  within  our  knowledge.  He  was  four 
times  elected  an  Engineer  of  the  Trenton  Fire  Department,  and 
widely  known  as  an  efficient  officer. 

When  news  of  the  fall  of  Sumter  reached  Trenton  on  a 
bright  Sunday  morning,  its  citizens  quickly  engaged  in  consul- 
tation how  best  to  aid  in  averting  perils  that  threatened  the  na- 
tion's life.  In  this  emergency  many  energetic  firemen  and  others 
urged  Drake  to  organize,  drill  and  lead  them  to  the  defence  of 
the  national  capital.  He  left  press  and  type  forthwith,  and 
devoted  all  his  energies  to  drilling  those  who  were  eager  to  serve 
an  imperilled  country.  A  vacant  store  on  State  street  was 
secured,  the  Stars  and  Stripes  were  displayed,  and  fife  and  drum 
made  things  lively  where  Silence  had  long  brooded.  Here  was 
organized  the  first  company  of  "Minute  Men"  in  our  patriotic 
commonwealth.  This  command,  attached  to  the  Third  Regi- 
ment, was  one  of  the  first  military  organizations  in  Washington — 
going  by  way  of  the  Chesapeake,  via  Annapolis. 

With  characteristic  modesty,  Drake  refused  to  take  com- 
mand of  the  company  which  he  speedily  organized,  believing  that 
a  man  of  military  knowledge  should  be  appointed.  He  accepted 


264  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

the  post  of  Ensign  of  the  regiment,  and  during  the  campaign 
gallantly  carried  the  colors,  being  the  first  to  unfurl  our  flag 
(at  the  head  of  the  army  of  invasion),  on  Virginia  soil,  the  Third 
New  Jersey  regiment  being  the  third  to  cross  the  Long  Bridge 
the  night  the  lamented  Ellsworth  was  killed. 

At  the  expiration  of  their  term  of  service,  shortly  after  the 
battle  of  Bull  Run,  Drake  and  his  comrades  returned  to  their 
homes.  But  the  patriotism  of  the  Trenton  boys  would  not  allow 
them  to  be  idle  when  bleeding  countrymen  called  for  aid  to 
resist  the  foe  on  ensanguined  fields,  and  Drake  hastened  to  join 
the  Ninth  New  Jersey  Regiment,  deservedly  celebrated  as  sharp- 
shooters. 

Whilst  serving  as  first  sergeant  of  Company  K,  and  receiv- 
ing only  a  sergeant's  pay,  Drake  for  a  long  time  was  in  com- 
mand. His  knowledge  of  military  matters  enabled  him  to  be 
decidedly  useful,  while  his  acknowledged  bravery  inspired  his 
comrades  with  courage.  He  participated  in  every  engagement 
in  which  this  famous  regiment  took  part,  displaying  great  gal- 
lantry and  skill  in  leading  his  company. 

In  the  terrible  battle  of  Drury's  Bluff,  Va.,  May  16,  1864,  in 
which  but  four  out  of  nineteen  officers  attached  to  his  regiment 
escaped  unhurt,  Drake  was  taken  prisoner  and  speedily  intro- 
duced to  the  "Libby,"  where  he  had  little  to  do  except  fast  and 
reflect  on  the  vicissitudes  of  a  soldier's  life.  In  common  with 
hundreds  of  heroic  men,  he  endured  hunger  with  fortitude,  slept 
the  sleep  of  the  just  on  the  soft  side  of  a  plank,  and  laughed  to 
scorn  the  efforts  of  brutal  jailors  to  disturb  his  tranquility.  True, 
thoughts  of  anxious  kindred  would  intrude  into  his  dreams,  and 
were  ever  present  in  his  waking  hours.  He  was  eager  to  regain 
his  freedom  that  he  might  hear  tidings  of  the  dear  ones  at  home, 
and  again  engage  in  his  country's  service. 

After  enduring  sore  discomfort  for  a  few  weeks  in  Libby 
prison,  Drake  accompanied  some  hundreds  of  his  fellow  captives 
to  Danville,  that,  in  the  language  of  a  Confederate  officer,  he 
might  have  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  picturesque  scenery 
of  that  portion  of  the  country  and  partake  of  the  elegant  hospitali- 
ties dispensed  at  the  military  prison  at  that  salubrious  spot. 

Fearing,  however,  that  the  captives  were  enjoying  too  much 
happiness  here,  and  desirous  also  that  they  should  visit  other 
interesting  points  in  the  sunny  South,  they  were  removed  to 
Augusta,  to  Macon,  to  Savannah,  to  Charleston.  On  their  ar- 
rival at  Charleston  things  were  decidedly  lively  in  the  beleaguered 
city.  With  a  patience  that  never  wearied,  and  a  skill  that  excited 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  265 

marvel,  Foster  rained  shot  and  shell  on  the  foe  within  reach  of 
his  batteries.  While  the  heavens  were  lurid  with  fires  of  hell, 
the  yellow  fever  seized  on  the  vitals  of  many  whom  bomb  and 
ball  failed  to  injure.  In  this  delectable  spot,  hundreds  of  men, 
whose  only  crime  was  that  they  loved  their  country,  were  sent 
to  languish.  Thanks  to  the  protection  of  a  gracious  Providence, 
Drake  suffered  no  harm  in  this  hideous  prison-house. 

Having  passed  a  portion  of  the  dog-days  in  the  Charleston 
jail-yard,  exposed  to  imminent  peril,  Drake  was  admitted  for  a 
brief  season  to  the  Marine  Hospital.  But  the  Confederate  author- 
ities, deciding  to  remove  six  hundred  Union  officers  from  the 
"accursed  city  of  the  sea"  to  Columbia,  Drake  was  among  the 
number  ordered  on  the  pleasant  excursion. 

In  the  various  military  prisons  in  which  he  had  endured  mis- 
ery in  varied  forms,  he  was  indefatigable  in-  planning  means  of 
escape.  Taking  his  life  in  his  hands,  he  was  ever  ready  to  en- 
gage in  desperate  undertakings  to  regain  liberty.  Powerless, 
however,  to  successfully  engage  their  jailors  in  a  hand  to  hand 
struggle,  the  captive  officers  sought  to  baffle  their  vigilance. 
What  they  could  not  hope  to  effect  by  force  they  resolved  to 
accomplish  by  stratagem.  To  this  end  they  organized  a  corps 
of  sappers  and  miners,  and  attempted  to  dig  their  way  to  a  change 
of  scene.  Tunnels  requiring  immense  labor  were  excavated  by 
men  whose  energies  were  taxed  to  the  limits  of  human  endurance. 
But  when  their  freedom  seemed  well  nigh  assured,  trifling  acci- 
dents or  accursed  treachery  baffled  every  effort.  Watched  with 
sleepless  vigilance,  the  prospect  of  escaping  from  an  intolerable 
captivity  seemed  hopeless  to  the  great  majority  of  Drake's  asso- 
ciates. But  he  never  despaired. 

After  he  had  been  a  few  months  in  Dixie,  it  occurring  to 
him  that  his  manner  of  life  was  becoming  a  little  monotonous, 
he  resolved  to  change  it  at  the  first  convenient  opportunity. 

He  did  not  wait  long.  On  the  journey  to  the  capital 
of  the  Palmetto  State  Drake  and  three  of  his  companions  agreed 
to  regain  their  freedom  even  at  the  peril  of  life.  At  a  favorable 
point  he  led  the  way  in  a  leap  for  liberty,  his  comrades  jumping 
from  the  rapidly  moving  car  directly  after.  The  guards  were 
astounded  by  the  extraordinary  feat,  that,  for  a  minute,  they  for- 
got to  fire  a  parting  salute  with  the  rifles  which  were  their  insep- 
arable companions.  As  soon,  however,  as  their  excitement  al- 
lowed, they  fired  upon  the  fugitives,  and  let  "slip  the  dogs  of  war" 
in  the  form  of  bloodhounds,  swift  of  foot,  keen  of  scent,  and  as 
ferocious  and  untiring  as  any  animal  on  God's  footstool. 


266  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

Though  the  officers  happily  escaped  injury  in  their  terrible 
leap,  and  were  graciously  preserved  from  flying  bullets  and  the 
awful  fangs  of  the  bloodhounds,  they  soon  found  themselves  en- 
vironed with  formidable  difficulties.  Hunger,  thirst,  home- 
sickness were  among  the  minor  ills  of  their  pilgrimage.  They 
were  several  hundred  miles  from  a  place  of  refuge,  in  the  midst 
of  implacable  enemies,  without  guide  or  compass.  Extensive 
swamps  noted  for  deadly  miasma,  and  thorns  almost  keen  as 
razors,  wide  and  deep  streams,  and  mountains  whose  summits 
kissed  the  clouds,  lay  directly  in  their  path.  As  they  emerged 
from  swollen  streams  their  shivering  bodies  often  attested  the 
coldness  of  the  water.  Mountain  ravines  were  threaded  by 
Drake's  naked  feet,  while  snow  and  ice  in  profusion  made  his 
progress  inexpressibly  painful.  His  condition  here  was  truly 
pitiable,  the  situation  one  of  manifold  horrors. 

The  sufferings  of  the  travelers,  under  the  most  favorable  cir- 
cumstances calculated  to  cause  strong  men  to  despond,  were 
greatly  aggravated  by  the  intense  cold  they  encountered  before 
they  reached  the  Union  lines.  At  this  critical  period  of  his  his- 
tory Drake's  wardrobe  consisted  of  a  blouse,  pants  and  red  shirt, 
worn  thin  and  ragged  during  a  period  of  six  months'  constant 
service.  While  rambling  over  sunny  plains  his  garments  were 
neither  ornamental  or  comfortable,  being  travel-stained  and  dilap- 
idated. On  the  bleak  mountains  they  failed  to  protect  his  form 
from  an  atmosphere  that  pinched  like  a  vice.  He  had  long  been 
shoeless,  and  so  badly  were  his  feet  frozen  in  climbing  one  of 
the  highest  peaks  of  the  continent  that  it  was  feared  amputation 
would  be  necessary. 

The  limits  allowed  for  this  sketch  will  not  permit  us  to  record 
many  interesting  incidents  attending  Capt.  Drake's  remarkable 
escape.  We  can  only  add  that,  after  being  exposed  to  serious 
hardships  during  a  period  of  forty-nine  days,  he  reached  Knox- 
ville,  Tenn.,  November  16,  1864,  and  was  soon  surrounded  by 
friends  who  ministered  to  his  necessities  while  they  listened 
eagerly  to  his  exciting  narrative. 

The  New  York  Tribune,  in  publishing  the  adventures  here 
concisely  stated,  said:  ''This  escape  is  considered  the  most 
daring  and  wonderful  that  has  been  effected  since  the  commence- 
ment of  the  rebellion." 

A  brief  period  was  allowed  Drake  to  recover  from  the  ex- 
haustion caused  by  the  miseries  of  his  captivity,  when  he  returned 
to  his  regiment,  was  promoted,  doing  faithful  service  until  the 
surrender  of  the  rebel  armies. 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  267 

On  the  recommendation  of  General  Grant,  the  Secretary  of 
War  presented  Drake  with  a  Congressional  medal  of  honor,  which 
is  more  highly  prized  than  any  other  of  the  cherished  badges  and 
decorations  in  his  possession. 

On  being  mustered  out  of  service  Drake  settled  in  Elizabeth, 
New  Jersey,  where,  in  1868,  he  started  "The  Daily  Monitor," 
which  soon  attained  a  large  circulation  and  profitable  advertising 
patronage. 

For  five  years  he  commanded  the  Third  Regiment,  N.  G.,  an 
organization  in  whose  prosperity  the  patriotic  people  of  New  Jer- 
sey took  warm  interest,  and  which  has  been  honored  with  ovations 
in  Washington,  Philadelphia,  New  York,  Trenton,  Cape  May, 
and  other  cities. 

For  "long  and  meritorious  service"  Colonel  Drake  was 
brevetted  Brigadier-General  by  a  special  act  of  the  legislature, 
and  the  honor  thus  conferred  on  this  gallant  soldier  greatly 
gratified  his  large  circle  of  friends. 

As  a  disciplinarian  and  drill-master,  General  Drake  pos- 
sesses qualities  of  a  high  order.  He  was  ever  held  in  deserved 
respect  by  his  men,  and  the  excellent  reputation  of  the  Third 
Regiment  is  in  a  large  measure  due  to  his  eminent  fitness  to 
command.  Few  other  officers  have  done  as  much  as  him  to 
place  the  National  Guard  of  New  Jersey  in  its  present  creditable 
condition. 

General  Drake  early  learned  to  sympathize  with  all  who 
suffer  adversity,  and  his  captivity  was  so  intolerable  that  he  thor- 
oughly hates  oppressors.  He  honors  his  fellows  for  their  sterling 
qualities,  believing  that  worth  makes  the  man.  Few  have  more 
warm  friends.  He  has  the  rare  faculty  of  winning  the  good 
opinion  of  all  with  whom  he  associates.  As  the  publisher  of  a 
live  newspaper,  he  exerts  a  wide  influence,  and  ever  seeks  to 
do  good  as  he  has  opportunity. 

JAMES  S.  DRAKE. 


268  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 


HOW  BRAVE  MEN  DIED. 

A  VOLUME  would  scarce  suffice  for  the  narration  of  the 
many  noble  deeds  performed  by  the  officers  and  men  of 
the  Eleventh  New  Jersey  Volunteers,  in  their  desperate 
and  sanguinary  struggle  with    Longstreet's  almost    invincible 
corps  of  well-tried  veterans  at  Gettysburg  on  the  second  of  July, 
1863,   and   so   I   will  content  myself  by   telling  briefly  of  the 
strange  fatality  that  overtook  many  of  its  gallant  officers. 

After  a  long,  rapid  and  fatiguing  march  over  Maryland's 
dusty  roads  all  the  livelong  day  of  July  1,  1863,  the  Eleventh 
New  Jersey,  on  the  evening  of  that  day,  found  itself  confronting 
Longstreet's  jubilant  and  serried  line  occupying  the  extreme 
right  of  the  Confederates  on  Seminary  Ridge. 

Although  worn-out  with  fatigue,  and  greatly  feeling  the 
want  of  sleep,  there  were  many  among  them  so  anxious  to 
punish  the  foe  for  his  insolence  in  invading  northern  soil,  and 
so  flushed  with  the  hope  of  success  that  they  were  incapable 
of  repose.  As  they  passed  the  wakeful  hours,  and  the  silence 
and  darkness  of  midnight  stole  upon  them,  they  gave  them- 
selves up  to  profound  meditation.  They  reflected  on  the  mani- 
fold dangers  through  which  they  had  passed  for  more  than  a 
year,  and  mused  on  the  result  of  a  battle  in  progress  for  more 
than  twenty-four  hours — a  battle  that  was  to  decide  the  destiny 
of  the  country — the  fate  of  a  government  they  had  been  taught 
to  believe  was  the  best  form  ever  devised  by  man.  They  com- 
pared the  stillness  of  the  night  with  the  awful  roar  of  conflict 
they  had  listened  to  for  many  hours  while  hastening  to  the 
scene,  and  of  the  tumult  which  they  knew  would  come  on 
the  morrow,  but  none  could  foretell  who  would  be  the  happy 
or  unhappy  victims.  They  thought,  too,  of  their  parents,  their 
flag,  their  country,  and  the  uncertainty  whether  they  should 
ever  again  see  these  beloved  objects,  plunged  all  into  the  deep- 
est melancholy.  But  suddenly,  while  the  everlasting  hills  about 
them,  and  the  beautiful  dale  below  them,  were  enshrouded  in 
an  impenetrable  fog,  the  bugles,  clear  and  distinct,  sounded  to 
the  deadly  fray,  the  officers,  fully  alert,  crying:  "Fall  in,  boys, 
fall  in,"  the  worn  and  jaded  men  rushing  to  their  different  sta- 
tions, and  all,  in  order  for  the  battle,  awaited  the  signal  for 
action.  All  in  that  gallant  host  were  animated  by  a  love  of 
country,  and  the  necessity  of  conquering  or  dying  for  the  flag 


REVOLUTIONARY  AND  CIVIL  WARS.  269 

they  loved.  To  the  sentiment  of  self-preservation  were  added 
ideas  of  duty  and  of  valor. 

Such  were  the  feelings  of  men  of  the  Eleventh  and  their 
comrades  of  the  Third  corps,  when  a  radiant  sun,  bursting  from 
the  thick  fog,  rapidly  dispelled,  shone  on  many  of  them  for  the 
last  time. 

The  position  occupied  by  the  Eleventh,  with  that  of  the 
rest  of  the  corps,  was  highly  desirable  to  General  Lee,  and 
he  ordered  Longstreet  to  attack  the  Third  corps  with  all  possible 
vigor.  Under  cover  of  his  splendid  and  admirably-served  bat- 
teries lined  along  the  wooded  ridge,  General  Barksdale  and  his 
fierce  Mississippians  made  a  determined  advance.  On,  on.  came 
the  Mississippians,  covered  by  a  strong  line  of  sharpshooters, 
until  they  reached  and  occupied  the  little  farm,  near  which  the 
Eleventh,  with  bated  breath,  awaited  them.  Up  to  this  moment 
the  Jerseymen  had  withheld  their  fire,  but  as  the  elated 
enemy  pressed  forward  upon  the  wasted  line  of  blue  they  opened 
a  terrific  fire,  momentarily  checking  the  advance  of  the  confi- 
dent and  exultant  Confederates,  who  were  assured  of  success. 

It  was  at  this  supremely  critical  moment  that  the  gallant 
and  heroic  Colonel  Robert  McAllister,  commanding  the 
Eleventh,  while  encouraging  his  brave  fellows  to  stand  firm 
in  repelling  the  haughty  invader,  was  disabled  by  two  severe 
wounds — a  Minie  bullet  in  his  left  leg  and  a  fragment  of  a  shell 
in  his  right  foot.  "Don't  give  way,  my  boys,"  he  said,  as  he 
was  borne  on  a  stretcher  from  the  field. 

Major  Philip  J.  Kearny  had  no  sooner  assumed  command 
of  the  regiment,  after  the  withdrawal  of  Colonel  McAllister,  than 
he  fell  dead,  another  victim  on  his  country's  bleeding  altar.  To 
the  valor  of  a  soldier  he  united  the  politeness  of  the  gentleman, 
and,  like  his  great  prototype,  General  Philip  Kearny,  the  hero 
of  Chantilly,  he  was  richly  endowed  with  the  qualities  and  all 
the  virtues  that  should  characterize  the  American  volunteer 
soldier. 

Witnessing  the  death  of  the  only  field  officer  present,  Cap- 
tain Luther  Martin,  a  young  printer  from  Plainfield,  took  com- 
mand, and  while  stimulating  the  men  by  his  great  courage  and 
enthusiasm,  he,  too,  fell  upon  the  altar  of  liberty,  his  precious 
blood  enriching  the  soil  he  so  gallantly  defended.  Captain 
Martin's  undaunted  bravery  on  many  ensanguined  fields  had 
long  inspired  the  men  of  the  Eleventh  with  a  melancholy  pre- 
sentment that  such  a  warrior  must  necessarily  perish  on  the 
field  of  battle.  It  was  fulfilled  at  Gettysburg. 


270  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

Captain  Dorastus  B.  Logan,  next  in  seniority,  on  witness- 
ing the  death  of  his  loved  companion,  sprang  forward  and  worth- 
ily took  his  place,  but  had  hardly  done  so  ere  he  was  ruthlessly 
robbed  of  a  bright  and  promising  life,  falling  beside  the  colors 
he  had  so  intrepidly  followed. 

Captain  Andrew  H.  Ackerman  then  assumed  command, 
and  was  instantly  killed.  Apparently,  Death  stood  there  to 
claim  every  shining  mark. 

Captain  William  H.  Lloyd,  on  being  notified  by  Adjutant 
John  Schoonover,  stepped  forward  to  direct  the  regiment,  and 
while  doing  so,  fell  desperately  wounded,  and  was  removed  to 
the  field  hospital. 

Adjutant  Schoonover  (still  living),  the  surviving  ranking 
officer  present,  took  command,  and  although  quickly  disabled 
by  two  wounds,  remained  with  the  regiment,  and  shortly  after 
under  orders,  led  it  from  the  gory  field. 


FAMOUS  CIVIL  WAR  ORGANIZATION. 

IN  January,  1867,  seventy-five  genuine  Elizabeth  veterans  of 
the  Civil  War,  some  of  whom  had  stood  by  my  side  in  the 
Ninth  New  Jersey  Volunteers  for  four  years,  organized 
themselves  into  a  body  known  from  that  time  to  this  as  the 
Veteran  Zouaves,  and  unanimously  elected  me  as  commandant. 
The  Zouaves,  by  superior  drill  and  deportment,  sprung  into 
prominence  at  once,  and  during  all  these  intervening  forty  years 
have  been  especial  public  favorites,  not  only  in  Elizabeth  and 
throughout  New  Jersey,  but  in  nearly  every  prominent  Ameri- 
can city,  in  all  of  which  they  have  been  welcome  guests  and  the 
recipients  of  brilliant  receptions. 

The  Zouaves  have  had  as  guests  President  U.  S.  Grant 
and  Generals  Sherman,  Sheridan,  John  C.  Black,  John  B.  Gor- 
don, Governor  of  Georgia,  and  others,  besides  many  prominent 
military  organizations,  including  the  Tibbitts'  Corps  of  Troy, 
the  Jackson  Corps  of  Albany,  and  Confederate  Camp  of  New 
York  city. 

In  1879  the  Zouaves  visited  Albany,  N.  Y.,  and  acted  as 
escort  to  the  National  encampment  of  the  G.  A.  R.,  performing 
the  same  service  in  San  Francisco  in  August,  1886. 

In  July,  1885,  the  Zouaves  visited  Albany  for  the  second 
time,  and  Troy  and  Saratoga,  the  pleasure  of  their  brilliant  tour 
being  in  a  measure  marred  by  the  sickness  and  death  of  General 


272  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE 

Grant,  which  occurred  the  day  after  they  reached  Saratoga, 
while  en  route  to  visit  him  at  Mt.  McGregor. 

In  1886,  the  Zouaves,  forty  strong,  with  sixty  honorary 
members  (including  eleven  ladies),  crossed  the  American  Con- 
tinent to  San  Francisco  in  a  special  train  of  parlor  cars,  and 
were  absent  from  home  one  month.  Neither  before  nor  since 
has  any  military  command  ever  made  this  tour  for  pleasure. 

In  1890  the  Zouaves  made  a  tour  of  the  Southern  States, 
with  New  Orleans  as  the  objective  point.  In  the  Cres- 
cent City  the  Zouaves  were  guests  of  the  famous  Washington 
Artillery  for  three  days.  Seventeen  days  were  consumed  on 
this  trip. 

The  Zouaves  have  made  more  pleasure  excursions  and  visit- 
ed more  cities  and  states  than  any  other  military  command  in 
the  country. 

Three  members  of  the  Zouaves — General  Drake,  Major 
Rufus  King,  U.  S.  Army,  and  Col.  Julian  Scott,  the  famous 
battle-scene  painter — received  Medals  of  Honor  from  Congress. 

The  last  pilgrimage  made  by  the  Zouaves  was  in  October, 
1907,  when  they  bivouacked  at  Gettysburg.  Harper's  Ferry, 
Washington,  Alexandria,  Mount  Vernon,  and  Arlington.  They 
were  absent  from  home  one  week,  and  on  their  return  received 
a  magnificent  ovation  from  their  fellow-citizens.  (The  accom- 
panying picture  of  seventeen  survivors  was  taken  in  front  of  the 
commandant's  home  previous  to  departure.) 

The  Zouaves  have  visited  New  York  City,  Philadelphia  and 
Washington  many  times,  and  Albany,  Troy,  Saratoga,  New 
Haven,  St.  Louis,  Kansas  City,  Topeka,  Kansas  City,  Los  An- 
geles, Oakland,  Alameda,  San  Francisco,  Sacramento,  Salt  Lake 
City,  Pueblo,  Colorado  Springs,  Pike's  Peak,  Garden  of  the 
Gods,  Chicago,  Cincinnati,  Chattanooga,  Birmingham,  New 
Orleans,  Mobile,  Atlanta,  Augusta,  Charleston,  Richmond, 
Trenton,  Princeton,  Freehold,  Camden,  Newark,  Jersey  City, 
Orange,  and  many  other  New  Jersey  towns. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


>OCT  3  1  1946 


\m 

fU  2  4  1966 


Form  L-9 
25m-2, '43(5205) 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

AT 
LOS  ANGELES 


E601 

D?8h  Drake  - 


sketches. 


• 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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E601 
D78h 


